


What Once Was

by Firepup



Category: Underfell - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game), underswap
Genre: Abuse, Action, Gen, M/M, Romance, Slow Build, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 322,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8639632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firepup/pseuds/Firepup
Summary: This is a WIP story.We begin in Underfell. Sans has a bad night with his brother, who sells him to some hooligans. Sans proceeds to have one wild night out. Look. I’m bad with summaries. If you like Action and Romance and you like HoneyMustard, stop on by.





	1. Arc One: Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy, there, friends, readers! Before we begin, please review these warnings:
> 
> Firstly, if you have no idea what Undertale is; I have no idea how you found this, you should go play the game.
> 
> Secondly, if you are unfamiliar with the Underfell and Underswap universes this story is not recommended for you. I’m writing based on the assumption you will have a basic understanding of the setting.
> 
> Lastly, if the mention of violence, abuse, rape, suicide, disfigurement, language etc. upsets you; please turn away now. I don’t want to cause you distress and I don’t know where this story will go, but I ain’t gunna be pullin’ no safe cards. Every horrible imagining I can think of can and likely will be used to torment my characters.
> 
> For those of you I haven’t terrified. Welcome! <3  
> Let’s get this show on the road!

The ice pelted down this evening, which made trudging through the snow difficult. The winds howled through the cavern like a banshee. The stocky skeleton hobbled to keep up. He really didn’t want to lose his balance or he’d never recover. His bones ached shakily. His joints creaked when they bent. With hollow sockets, he swayed precariously with each step. He just wanted to stop.

Sans rolled his wrists in the thick leather binding uncomfortably. A leash turned rope. He didn’t like being tied up out in the open like this, even if it was just his hands. He was too vulnerable, but he supposed no monster would attack him as long as Boss was with him. Boss’ side was the closest thing to safety he had. But did he even want safety anymore? Did it matter?

His brother plowed through the snow easily with his even gait, leaving Sans trailing behind in an awkward shuffle. The taller skeleton stopped and turned to regard him. His pointed black armor setting an intimidating figure in the storm. “Answer me, Sans,” he growled.

Shit. He hadn’t been listening.

“Sorry, B-Boss, g-guess I was a bit _tongue-tied_ ,” He replied, holding up his bound hands in a mock shrug. His permanent grin twitched at the corner of his mouth. That joke would get him beaten, but bad jokes were one of the few things that got him through the day. And if it so happened it ended his days; that wouldn’t be so bad either.

Papyrus’ permanent scowl deepened.  Sans could sense the flash of threat in his hollow eyes, but he didn’t pounce like he normally would. That was a bad sign. Boss was in a bad mood, which was, in fact, Boss’ normal mood. But bad as in worse than normal. The uneasy feeling he’d had since he’d been tied up only solidified in Sans’ stomach and not because it had taken a thrashing from Boss’ pointed boots less than an hour earlier. “Clever,” Boss responded flatly, unamused.

Boss kept walking, so Sans kept following.

 Shit. He really was going to hit him for that. Maybe not now, but later. He could just add that joke to his growing collection of chips and scars. Boss had generously donated to it over the years. He ground his fanged teeth together. Well, fuck _him_. That was just how they lived. He made life hard for Boss, so Boss made life hard for him. He made Boss’ life hard because he made his life hard. It was a vicious cycle that he knew they’d never break. Not unless Boss finally ended him –and Boss liked to play with his prey.

Gone was his cute, little brother. Broken to this world. Without him, Sans had given up on it. Their relationship was in tatters and it couldn’t be repaired.

A skeletal hand grabbed him then and heaved him out of the snow.

Shit, shit, shit. He really should have been paying attention.

Suspended by nothing but the hood of his coat, Sans sunk into the furred rim of his leather jacket. “I brought him,” Papyrus stated. “Now what did you bring?”

Caught, wide sockets and red-eyed, Sans stared at the new participants in the conversation.

An impossibly buff horse whose tail end turned into a fin was eyeing Sans in a hungry manner. The stallion snickered when Sans sunk further into his coat, recognizing the letch as Aaron from Waterfall. Behind the steed, a much smaller cloaked figure stood. So thick was their cloak that Sans couldn’t even make out the other’s face. It was as if the Riverman had shrunk.

Some jingles sounded from within the Riverman’s shawl. Aaron turned greedily towards the caped figure as it passed over something. Aaron smiled smugly. “You’ll find it’s all here,” he added, handing the cash out towards Papyrus.

No. Oh no. The familiarity of this situation was catching up to Sans now. No, no.

The taller skeleton flung Sans out to the side into the snow. The smaller ate a face full of snowflakes. It was the gentlest landing he’d had in years. The momentum buried him to his elbows. With his hands tied as they were, he struggled desperately to free himself. When he popped out of the snow with a gasp, Sans didn’t waste any time. Unable to right himself, Sans crawled back over towards Boss on his knees.

“B-Boss,” He stuttered out. No, oh no. He thought they were done with this. Boss hadn’t whored Sans in months. Sans could feel those last threads of things that got him through the day snapping away. “Boss, p-please.” He’d been good, hadn’t he? He cleaned. He cooked. He didn’t sleep on his shift, though it was a struggle to keep his eyes open most days. Maybe he’d woken up screaming at some point, but surely, not as often as he used to.

Papyrus ignored him. He counted the money.

Sans looked up at him with huge pleading sockets, searching for any sign that the brother he once knew was still in there.

Still ignoring him, a long leg rose and shoved him back down into the snow. This time a boot rested at the back of his skull to keep him planted. He wasn’t getting out of this. Sans’ breaths came in quick panicked heaves now. To an outsider, it might’ve looked like Sans was suffocating in the snow under Boss’ boot, but skeletons didn’t _need_ to breathe. An advantage his brother often took advantage of.

 Sans couldn’t believe this was happening again. Not now. He’d done everything! _Everything_ Boss had asked for. What had he done wrong? He failed to calm himself down. He couldn’t do this. Not again. But he couldn’t _refuse_. Boss would dust him. He wanted to be gone. He wanted to be done. So why did that phrase still scare him?

Boss would dust him.

He stopped struggling. He stilled; face-down in the snow. He could feel the tears coming on. He was thankful the temperature seemed to freeze them before they could properly form. He didn’t want to cry here. He was overreacting. This was normal for them.

Boss made his life hard only when he made Boss’ life hard. He’d done something to deserve this. He just didn’t know what.

Papyrus counted the money again, as if he couldn’t believe these lowly mongrels had delivered the absurd amount he’d demanded. He flipped quickly through the cash with his talon-like gloves a second time. He _tsk_ ed in disappointment when the number came up the same. Reluctantly, he lifted his foot from his weak brother’s skull and kicked him towards the customers. Hard. The little skeleton skidded to their feet. Boss’ tone was short, “Just have him back in two hours. Alive.”

Sans curled around the new injury to his spine, but still fought to keep his head up. His eyes locked with Boss’ one last time, searching Papyrus’ red irises with his own. He opened his mouth, starting to beg, but the words failed to come out. He closed it when he found no mercy in his brother’s eyes. Papyrus turned on his heel and left.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Aaron said all too gleefully in a mock bow. As if this were some fanciful fucking business. “And with you,” He added, lifting Sans out of the cold. “I believe last time you said ‘When hell freezes over.’ What do you say?” He teased. “We could stay here in Snowdin if you like?” He pressed Sans entirely too close to his rancid horse smell for the skeleton’s liking. Sans leaned himself as far away as he could, a disgusted sneer upon his mandible. Sans hated being touched.

A voice that was so quiet Sans almost missed it chimed in. “No,” The little voice said. “To Waterfall.”

 The hulking brute turned to regard his companion, as if he was suddenly remembering they were there. Aaron glanced back at Sans, dangling helplessly in his grasp, before he grunted, “Yeah, yeah. I know.” He slung Sans unceremoniously over his shoulder.

From his new vantage, Sans watched Boss’ silhouette disappear into the storm as they trotted off the other way. The sight seared his vision. When Boss never even turned around, Sans let his gaze sink back to the ground. His eyelights flickered out in a slow stutter. Next to Aaron, the little Riverperson glided across the snow in the corner of Sans’ eye. Start forgetting, he told himself. Start going numb now or this is going to be so much worse.

They arrived at the river. Sans was loaded into the boat like cargo. He was just bought, after all. Being treated like merchandise wasn’t unfamiliar. The small skeleton just stayed limp. Merchandise didn’t move. There was no point. He was out of Boss’ protection now. He was bound. Struggling could get him killed. The last thing he’d see would be Boss’ back as he left him in the snow. He couldn’t teleport away or he’d never get Boss’ security again. It was hopeless. No sense in trying. One hit point was too fragile a thing to take risks in the Underground.

The boat rocked precariously when the bulky horse got in. Aaron purposefully took a seat across from where Sans was lying on his side, his eyes roaming Sans’ body. If he didn’t feel so dead, he would’ve flinched away from that vulgar gaze. But as it was, he let the eyes roam. Still, limp, motionless. Hardly appealing.

The cloak sat next to the seahorse silently. With a _Tra la la_ the real Riverman took off. Sans was too busy trying to blast away his mind to bother with the details of the situation. Aaron kept impatiently rubbing his fin against Sans, eyeing him eagerly. “Can’t believe I got him.”

“We,” the smaller corrected, but was ignored.

 “Just wait ‘til we get there,” he promised with a husky growl.

“Stop touching him,” the voice of the little Riverperson piped up calmly. Detached, yet commanding.

The horse turned a cool eye at his companion. “I’m getting sick of you telling me what to do, little thing.” He nudged Sans with his tail once more to prove his point. “I’ll do whatever I want from here on out.”

“Stop touching him,” the little Riverperson repeated. Same inflection.

Angry now, the horse grabbed Sans and hauled him onto his lap. Stay limp. A rough hand dug into the skeleton’s hollow sides through his thick jacket. Forget this. Despite the clothing offering some protection, Sans still winced with hollow sockets when the hand pressed into his injured spine. Go numb, already.

A knife flashed out of the cloak before the letch went any further. The blade sped by so quickly Sans could feel the wind it kicked up against his face. It slashed through Aaron’s thick flesh in the blink of an eye. Any scream that tried to rise from the monster died as he shriveled. Abruptly, Sans was falling out of dusting hands. What was once the annoying horse, crumpled into a pile of ash in the seat he once was.

Sans couldn’t believe what he’d just saw. That figure was even smaller than he was! How did they have an attack that high? Aaron was no pushover. He was a stupid, dumb animal, but fights were something the horse had been good at. Excelled at, even. That was why he was still alive. …Had been alive.

_Tra la la_ Don’t dirty my boat _la la_

 Tense, Sans eased into a sitting position slowly. Suddenly, much more weary of his buyer. He eyed them behind blackened sockets. Were they dusting him next?

He didn’t bother to raise his hands to defend himself.

They returned to their position, calmly seated across from him.

“Sans the Skeleton,” the cloak stated, unfazed. “I’ve been waiting to meet you again.”

This soft, sweet voice wasn’t one he recognized. “D-do I know you, Shortstuff?” He tried to sound unfazed as well, but his stutter always ruined any chance at sounding level-headed.

“Do you?” the figure asked.

“No.”

“Then you don’t know me,” the cloak concluded with an answer that didn’t answer anything. Bratty little- “Sans the Skeleton,” they stated again. “You’ve heard the theory of parallel universes, correct?”

“Y-yeah,” Sans answered wearily. When silence ensued, he figured they wanted him to elaborate, “It’s the idea t-that there are an infinite number of existences all layered over our c-current one.” He felt eyes bore into him from beneath the hood. “In which different events take place in its h-history that alters that place’s existence to differ from our own.”

“Then it wouldn’t be a stretch, then,” they continued, “To consider that there could be a timeline where monsters were never placed in the underground. Or an Underground in which the king’s family still lived. Or an Underground where you didn’t have one hit point.”

Sans flinched at that. Was that a threat? When had they checked his stats? Quite frankly, the people who knew he only had one hit point were either dead or his brother. “W-where’re you goin’ with this?”

The cloaked figure leaned forward. “Sans the Skeleton, if you could go to a place that _wasn’t here._ Would you want to go?”

Yes.

 It was a no-brainer. Who would stay here? A place where his brother didn’t whore him out. A place where he wasn’t always on the verge of being dusted. He’d once dreamed about a place like that before he fell into his nightmares for the evening. Nowadays he couldn’t even imagine it. It was a no-brainer and it was also dangerously wishful thinking.

“Heh heh heh!” He laughed in his raspy voice. “Im-Impossible. You’d never get to a parallel universe,” he explained, “The act alone would require some sort of massive d-disturbance in the continuum.”

“It’s your lucky day, Sans.” The cloak threw back their hood, “I just happen to be an anomaly.”

Fleshy, bald skin with a mat of brown hair greeted him. The cloak’s eyes were drawn into thin lines in which their pupils couldn’t be seen. The most radiant smile he’d ever seen upon their face. There was some kind of weed curled around their neck. Tiny body, cherubic face, striped shirt, this was just a child.

A human child.

Sans’ red eyelights ran the length of the child twice. Truly. It was a bit anti-climatic. “You might b-be a rare sight, kid. But you ain’t no anomaly.”

The human sat back down crossing their arms. “That’s no way to greet a new pal,” they huffed, disappointed with his response.

“We ain’t pals,” Sans corrected.

“You’re right,” they said. “You’re my property. I bought you, so I’ll have you accompany me for the next two hours.”

That landed like a slap in the face. Kid or not, this person had not only bought him for what appeared to be some absurd amount of money, but had also just murdered a monster, much stronger than Sans, only moments ago. The large, silver knife still resting across the kid’s lap. Sobered now, he asked in his gruff voice, “Where we goin’?”

The human passed some coins back to the Riverperson. “Take us all the way to Hotland, please.”

A few moments passed where the boat just glided along in silence. Not even the Riverman interrupted the quiet, but quiet was something no child did well. The human’s feet started swinging in an innocent manner from where they dangled off the seat. A gentle, yet haunting, melody escaped their throat in a hum. It drawled on.

He should kill them. It felt like their guard was down. It’d just take one bone in the right place and _poof!_ Dusted human. Or… however it was humans dusted. Somehow he felt sure it was more complicated than dusting.

The tune went on.

Or…

He could kill them after this song. It was eating away at his mind, after all. He’d felt like he’d heard it before, but he couldn’t place the name. He felt he knew the notes that were coming before he heard them. His eyes drifted to the wake the boat was leaving. He was sure he knew it.

Suddenly, the child was much closer to him; now holding the knife.

Sans jumped so hard he fell off the seat and almost took the boat down with him.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Relax,” the child commanded.

He didn’t believe that. He didn’t believe that at all, but he felt the command might be a prelude to a stab wound. So, he willed himself to relax.

The child kneeled in front of him. Little hands roamed his sleeves and pulled at his bound hands. “Aren’t these uncomfortable?” The bonds slipped away. Once freed, the human stepped quickly away from him, as if they understood his aversion to touch.

He didn’t trust it. Sans narrowed his eyes at them. “W-what’s your game, kid?”

He could feel the shift. Like the air got sucked away. A dangerous smile began to creep across the child’s face and Sans felt his soul slink away to hide. Then, it fell. Blown away as the storm’s winds howled back up. They blinked twice, seeming to recover. Again stood the kid who had childishly rocked their feet to a song’s hum. “Not a game,” they corrected, yet averted their eyes to the side. “I just want what you want.”

“That is?”

“To get you out of here.”

Sans wasn’t stupid. There were other implications to that, he knew. Like, why do they want him out of here? What would removing him from the picture achieve? Couldn’t that goal be more easily accomplished by just dusting him? Instead, he asked, “The universes again?”

The child nodded seriously back at him.

Absurd. The theory of parallel universes was only that; a theory. Even the existence of a world where monsters had never been placed in the underground or _whatever_ was just a fairytale. Believing you could actually go there? Childish! Damn near insane. No rational person would buy it. The Underground was shit and it was always going to be shit.

He sighed frustratingly. “You can’t j-just go to another universe.”

“Have you tried?” They prodded.

“I don’t have to try t-to know,” He couldn’t meet their gaze.

“So, you haven’t tried.” Dumb kid.

“Why do you care?” He shot back. Because why _did_ they care. Whether or not Sans was here. Why they wanted him gone? Why they didn’t just stab him if that were their goal. It didn’t make any sense.

“Because I promised I’d help you.”

Ah, they were crazy, then. That was more probable. He’d have to let them down easy. Make sure their little dreams didn’t get crushed n’ all:

“You’re crazy.” And that time he didn’t stutter. But for some reason he didn’t abandon his crusade of reason against someone who was obviously clinically unsound. “You think it’s that easy, then? T-think you can just waltz into another timeline?”

And they laughed at that. Loudly. It echoed off the walls of the river’s cavern. A melody all its own. Sans hadn’t thought it was that funny. “I do,” they replied. “Sans, you like to act like you know the answer to things before you try them.”

Because he did.

“The result isn’t set in stone, you know.”

Didn’t matter.

“You take what you know as fact and never explore your possibilities.”

“F-facts wouldn’t be facts if they weren’t true.”

“You give up too soon,” they stated.

“It’s kept me alive.”

“And dead inside,” they added.

“You don’t know when to quit,” He provided.

“Maybe I don’t!” They laughed. “But I’m still alive, too.”

“You’re also a lot younger than me.”

“I’m older than you,” they corrected.

Sans spun a bewildered glare at them. “How old are y-you?” He tested. Maybe humans worked a bit differently.

“Seven,” they responded.

S-sev -He leaned in angrily at them. Red eye flaring up. “D-do I look _seven_ to you?!” He knew he was small, but surely he didn’t look _that_ young.

They chuckled, but danced out of his reach. “Glad to see you so animated today!” they teased, “You’ll need that energy! We’re here.” They pointed to the dock at Hotland. The Riverman easily settled the boat against the dock in a well-practiced maneuver.

As they got off the boat, the human grabbed onto his hand. Their grip was light and undemanding. The way a child might absent-mindedly hold onto an adult’s simply because it was nearby. Sans tensed at the initial contact, but relaxed into the touch when no further contact followed. He considered shaking the human off, but…

How long had it been since he’d held a child’s hand? Not since Papyrus was a baby bones. His brother used to cry and cling onto him back when he was cute. Surely, it had been ages. So why did the little hand in his feel so familiar now?

“This way,” they declared in their soft voice. They tugged him along. The pace of his companion seemed to brighten now that they were holding hands. They pranced at his side with a skip in their step. He couldn’t help but let his mind wander to fonder times. Sans kept their pace. He watched as they bounced up and down joyfully. A barely audible hum escaping their lips. In their other hand, the large steak knife swished back and forth with the childish rhythm.

Thankfully, they weren’t assaulted by any monsters on their way through the steamy roads. Perhaps the way that kid openly brandished their weapon struck any potential passersby as off-putting. The way they carried it was confident, like it was an old friend. Practiced. Familiar. Or maybe the other monsters realized that was fresh dust billowing off of their cloak. Whatever had scattered the denizens of Hotland, their passage went unprovoked. They didn’t see a soul other than themselves.

Sans slowed significantly as they approached what was undoubtedly their destination. A huge white lab in the middle of Hotland. Stark against the lava and dreariness, but Sans knew who this place belonged to. He’d take the lava any day.

“Hey, K-kiddo, how ‘bout we check somewhere else for p-parallel universes.”

The human smiled back at him. “I’m afraid it’s got to be here,” they said and kept walking, undeterred, towards the door. They didn’t technically pull him, but when their hands reached the point they could go no further without letting go, Sans trailed behind.

They stood in front of the towering, white doorway. It was obviously sealed. “Teleport us in,” the soft voice instructed.

“Wha?” How did they know?

“Teleport us in,” the child said again, fixing him with an expectant stare. “I know you can.”

He didn’t think breaking and entering would be on his list of things to do this evening when he was purchased. A locked door wouldn’t deter this kid, anyway. He supposed, with a child, the normal schedule would be off the menu. The reason they went through the trouble of getting him was at least starting to make sense. “A-alright, alright.” Sans took a step forward and pulled the child through the shortcut with him.

They appeared on the other side of the door. It was dark inside the lab. A few monitor screens fizzed with static, abandoned in clutter strewn around the place. Heavy wires and cords ran above their heads. Some loose and sparking with electricity. These brief lights some of the only illumination the space offered.

It was hard to tell between the dim lights and darkness, but the place looked absolutely wrecked. More wrecked than Sans was expecting it to be. He’d expected the place to be a mess, but not in shambles. What had happened here? He took a step forward, but the human’s outstretched arm stopped him. Something green and slimy slipped from the roof above them, landing where Sans would have stood. It hissed where it connected with the floor, suggesting an acidic nature.

“I need you to listen to everything I tell you while we’re in here,” their voice was low, guarded. “Can you do that?”

Sans stared at them, wide eyed.

They didn’t wait for a response. They flung themselves at Sans. “Teleport left!” They screamed, grabbing tightly onto him. They were falling to the floor now and as Sans’ vision spun up, he could see an enormous creature leaping down from the rafters above them. One gaping maw of a mouth dead in the center of what he expected to be its head, except it had no eyes. Green spittle flying out behind it. They were about to be crushed when they fell through the shortcut and spilled onto the ground to their left.

The creature, not two feet away, growled in a deep rhythmic manner. His head turning this way and that; sensing out his prey. The way its head moved felt unnatural. Sans didn’t think a normal monster, with normal functioning joints, could move like that. In fact, this thing didn’t look like any monster he’d ever seen before. It had a large, white, amorphous body that couldn’t seem to decide if it were a solid matter or not. He recognized the acidic green juices pouring out of its oval mandible as the substance currently burning a hole through the floor. But, worst of all, it didn’t seem to have a recognizable face.

“W-what is that thing?” He echoed.

“An amalgamate,” the child answered, unwavering. “There’s more. Move.”

The amalgamate turned its head towards their voices. The human’s hand grabbed a fistful of Sans’ shirt, hauling him into a run on his feet. He didn’t have to look behind him to know they were being pursued.

They took off. Sans blipping them through shortcuts to speed their way.

Sans’ shortcuts didn’t work so conveniently that he could just teleport whenever and wherever. Shortcuts were stepping into the void where they constantly shifted and maneuvered inside that abyss. The shortcuts had to line up or you’d never reach the other side. So, you only wanted to move short distances and it helped if you knew the location so well you could walk there with your eyes closed. The caster would be lost forever in the darkness with a misstep. And Sans was the only caster. The only one who knew these pitfalls. Even Boss had praised him before for not cowardly running away like he usually did when he failed to take one. It wasn’t bravery. He couldn’t do this. This kid better not have been betting on his “teleports” to get them through this.

Their footsteps thundered across the tiled floor, waking sleeping eyes in their wake. The human yanked suddenly on his shirt and he stumbled in front of them as they whipped around. Their knife flashed out in several quick bursts against the darkness. An unnatural screech cowered away into the shadows. They turned again, tugging Sans after them.

“Cast a red attack to our right!”

Sans soul was pulsing so heavily it sent a pounding through his skull. He couldn’t think on his own. He cast a red attack blindly out to their right. Something angry hissed in return.

“There’s a door on the left up ahead. Use the keypad!” They spun again, slashing wide, leading their momentum into a sideways roll. It sounded like their hit had connected.

Sans focused forward, wildly searching the darkness. A small red light, too small to chase away the shadows, caught his eye. So, he aimed for that. He skidded to a stop in front of it. Hands skimming the wall. His skeletal fingers danced across a large flat metal, likely a door. He reached for the keypad. Something slammed into the back of him. Knocking his head against the metal and pressing him hard against the wall. There was a sickening crack.

The human was upon them then, knife blazing. Chasing away the obstruction. Sans slipped back onto his feet, but he felt unsteady. He grasped the keypad.

“W-What’s the code?”

“Mew Mew Kissie Cutie.”

Absurd.

He typed it into the keypad. The light flicked to green.

_Beep_

The door swung open. Sans all but fell through the doorway. He sunk to the floor on the backside of the wall. The human backed into the doorway slowly, their hands slashing out at unseen foes. The door whished shut behind them. The child entered some buttons on the side of the wall and lights rattled on inside the elevator. They turned to face him.

They didn’t look happy.

Sans flinched as the human knelt down beside him. “Are you okay?”

Sans huddled into himself and glared at the kid. He was hurt all over. Boss had roasted him. He was cold. He’d run on sore bones and, now, if the searing pain in his thigh was any indication, he’d snapped his femur.

One hit point. He wasn’t going to hold.

Well. He’d wanted it. Really, it was an atrocity he’d lived as long as he had. At least it could be done with. This could finally be over. He actually felt grateful it wasn’t Boss who had dusted him. He could feel the bone start to crumble around the slash in his leg.

“W-who are you, kid?” Sans asked.

The child looked forlorn, yet, without missing a beat, they replied, “Hopefully, a memory this time.”

He could tell his dusting wasn’t going to be as quick and painless as the other monsters’. No. His would be slow and painful. He let his eyes flicker out. He didn’t’ want to see his hands disintegrate anyway. He let the world fade. He wanted it to fade, but the image of Papyrus walking away in the snow was burned into his mind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“f-“

 

 

“Fr-“

 

“Put him down. He’s dead.”

“He’s not dead.”

“Put him down,” the saddened voice repeated. “Monsters dust when we die. You can’t deny him that. It’s how we pass on! Let’s scatter him and give him a proper funeral!”

“He’s not dead.”

“How do you know that?”

Silence.

“Sans the Skeleton,” a soft voice said. “You are not allowed to die on me today.”

He could feel the world swaying.

Like static, Sans’ red eyelights crept back into existence. His head was angled down, too heavy to lift with his own power. Below him, dark, stone tiles were being traversed by short, fleshy legs. His own legs hung uselessly to the sides of a striped shirt. His right femur was bound in a dark cloth. Red liquid seeped into the fabric and dripped down his bones.

“Sans the Skeleton,” the voice echoed hollowly. Wretchedly, “I am getting you out of here.”

“Sss-s-stubborn brat,” he mumbled. The swaying stopped. Was he getting a piggyback ride from a seven year old? Humiliating.

“Sans?” the voice asked hopefully.

He tried to move his head, but it didn’t seem to function. His eyes trailed to the side. There was a very shocked looking flower on the other side of the human’s chin.

“How are you alive?” It squeaked.

He didn’t know the answer to that.

“How are you feeling?” The human asked.

“ _B-bone_ -tired,” he responded without missing a beat, but it was true. He couldn’t even lift his head.

They chuckled softly and the swaying picked up again as they began walking. “Glad to have you back from the dead. I was starting to get a bit,” They sighed a bit dramatically, “ _bonely_ without you.”

Despite himself, he smiled into the fabric of the striped shirt. Had he ever heard anyone else tell a joke before? A bad one?

The flower cut into their charade – “We can still take him back,” he begged the human. “He needs magic to get better. You can’t give him that. We can take him to Papyrus-“

Sans flinched involuntarily. Boss would dust him for this for sure. Running around with a human. Getting abducted by some child. One of the customers was dusted. That would probably be his fault, too.

Boss would dust him.

He didn’t want Boss to dust him. He didn’t want Boss to _be_ the one who dusted him. He wanted to be dust, but he didn’t want it to be Boss. Not his little brother.

“We aren’t going to Papyrus,” the edge of something dangerous lined the human’s voice.

Sans relaxed into the human’s back. Good. He still had time to end himself sometime between now and when Boss would inevitably find him. He should be dust right now. Why wasn’t he dust?

He felt the red liquid dribbling down his leg. What even was that?

“Don’t do this,” the weed prodded. “Please, turn around!”

“We’re almost there,” The human stated.

Sans felt like the air was a lot hotter now. Unlike the eerie chill it had when they’d first entered the lab. The human arrived at another metallic door. When it swished open, a blast of heat blew furiously past them as it was released into the hallway.

The large room beyond was awash in a red glow. Hundreds of pipes formed the walls. Criss-crossing a myriad display up the towering room. They curved at the roof and all came down into one central point, feeding into a bulky, distasteful machine with a sole, heavy door at its front. Three long, suspended walkways led to the base where the machine loomed.

“W-where are we?” He asked.

“The Core,” the human replied.

The Core. He knew the core. It was the large metal thing that made Hotland… well, hot. That would explain the searing heat radiating off this device.

“The core of all worlds,” the human continued. “A machine Gaster built and left behind. It was meant to connect to the fabric of the universe so that it could be altered or manipulated.” They gently set him down next to the machine. Hot metal seared the back of his skull. Fire licked his bones, but he just felt cold. He didn’t have the strength to move on his own. So why was he still conscious? “It’s still got a little energy left. I’m sure it can take one person.”

G a s t e r.

Gaster? How did he know that name?

“Sans the Skeleton,” The human stated, turning to him defiantly. “If I could send you somewhere else, would you want to go?”

Gaster fell into the core, so he was no more.

“Heh heh heh,” he laughed. This was a rather elaborate way to dust a monster. He wanted to be dust. Before Papyrus found him. Before Papyrus had to watch him dust. “Yeah, kid.”

They nodded and turned to the device. From their inventory they pulled out several gears and gizmos along with a large, messily scribbled blueprint. They used their knife to unscrew a panel below a keypad next to the door. Little hands set to work on the wiring.

“I’m not going to kill you,” they said in a tiny voice that could barely be heard over the lava roiling below. There was something determined, yet breaking, in that statement.

“S-sure, kid.”

“I’m not going to,” they echoed, but it was plagued with doubts.

“Yeah, kid.” He reassured, letting his head drop into his chest. He didn’t have the strength to go much further, but didn’t feel his bones crumbling either.

They paused their work on the circuits. They didn’t look over at him, but stared absently in front of themselves. “I won’t kill you,” they repeated with more conviction.

“I know.” The machine would.

They resumed their work in silence. The flower at their shoulder became more panicked by the minute, but the child remained calm. Several long, hot minutes passed. The panel snapped shut. The little person walked over and knelt in front of the worn skeleton, but at a distance that wasn’t close enough to touch him.

“Sans,” they called softly. He realized his eyelights had gone out. He let them fade back in. “It’s done. You’ll get out of here. You’ll be somewhere better.” It felt like there was more they wanted to say, but they swallowed it down.

They put his arm around their shoulder and hauled him onto his feet. He couldn’t stand. He put all his weight onto them. They led him into the chamber of the hulking device where they gently set him down. The metal, like the outside, was searing hot beneath his bones. As the little human let go of him, he noticed their hands were burnt and charred in places from working on the machine. They curled into tiny fists against the child’s chest.

“Be happy,” they said, not meeting his gaze. They turned away.

The flower curled up the length of their small form to stick his head right in front of the human’s face, halting them. “Please! Please don’t do this,” it pleaded. “We can take him back. We’ll get him magic somehow. Please don’t send him away. You can start again. We can still make this right.”

“No more do-overs,” the human said. They plucked the flower from their shoulder and stuffed him into their shorts’ pocket. “I’m putting an end to all this. Now,” they growled the last word. They stepped out of the chamber. The flower stared in horror and disbelief at the human. Then, back to Sans. The child entered some beeps into the keypad beside the door.

“HUMAN!” A deafening roar thundered through the boiling room.

 Sans’ eyes locked onto the source. A soft giggle sounded to his side.

“Papyrus~,” The child cooed. “Took you long enough.”

Papyrus towered in the entryway, bathed in the red glow. He stood tall. Regal in his spiked black armor. His cape billowed out behind him as the cinders danced around his form. A furious look set into his skull. A visage of impending death. “Unhand my brother now,” threat laced in every syllable, “Or you’ll be answering to me.” A long, crimson bone sword formed in his hand.

Sans tore his eyes away to glance nervously back over to the kid. They were smiling again, but not the smiles they had given to Sans before. This was the kind of smile Sans was used to seeing. Their wicked grin curled wide at their childlike cheeks. Malice radiating from every pore. Their eyes were wide open now and Sans could see that their eyes were red. Like Papyrus’. Like Sans’. Like the evil that resided in every member of the Underground. “I was hoping you’d say that,” they purred.

Papyrus charged.

“But you’re too late,” they interjected. They slammed a fist against the button behind them on the machine. The glass doors to the container zipped closed before Sans. He didn’t want to die in front of Boss. The machine roared to life. Buzzing rang through the chamber. It hummed so loudly, the ground shook beneath his feet. Filled with terrifying new doubts, the smaller skeleton backed into the back wall frantically searching for an exit. A loose back panel. An emergency stop button. A shortcut. Any exit.

“SANS!” Papyrus screamed. Abandoning all proper posture to leap his way with an outstretched hand.

The worried expression of his brother’s face faded into a blinding white as the container was consumed with light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun fact of the chapter: My Frisk is halfway to genocide.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
> 
> Meaningless Author Notes:  
> This is probably the worst time to make a new chapter of something; right around the holidays, but I’d like to tackle this project as a writing exercise for myself in the future. I was considering writing the whole thing and posting it as a complete story, but in the end I thought it would be good if I had a few readers who might bug me if I didn’t keep up a steady flow of chapters. (I’m counting on you!) So, I decided to post it slowly as I complete each chapter. The end goal is to have it all come together as a full story, though. So, I may be backtracking on occasion to edit and refine previous chapters. I’ll try to keep a changelog of all the updated chapters in the beginning notes of each new chapter.  
> So …
> 
> Status: Work in Progress
> 
> I know I tagged this as HoneyMustard. I promise Paps will be in the next one! <3  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Mandatory Recap:  
> “I just want to be dust.”  
> “You got it, bud.”  
> *throws Sans into a boiler*  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

The light consumed his vision, but the image of Papyrus had, once again, seared itself into his mind’s eye. It felt like his soul was ripped from his chest, shattered into tiny pieces, thrown into a shortcut, and spit back out the other side, expected to reform.

He couldn’t do it.

The one thing he hadn’t wanted; and his little brother had watched him dust right in front of his very eyes. What kind of brother was he if he couldn’t even protect Papyrus from his own shitshow?

He’d often wondered if Papyrus would even care, ya’know? He’d watched Papyrus change so much as he’d grown. Just watched as the world threw him down and ground him under its heel, but Papyrus didn’t give up. Not like Sans. Papyrus fought back. He was a fighter. He was inspiring. His brother was so amazing, but battle wore a person down. Changed them. He wasn’t even sure if Boss was still his brother anymore. He wanted to die, but if there was even a shred of his little brother left, then how could he leave Papyrus behind. Alone. In _that place._

He wanted to leave.

_‘Don’t make me stay_.’

Boss’ worried look as he’d tried to reach him was still vivid in his mind. He didn’t want to see it. ‘ _Don’t make me think you care now.’_ He wanted to be dead. He wanted to be gone.

“You’ll get out of here. You’ll be somewhere better.” Those words seemed to echo in his mind.

_‘Somewhere better?’_

No shit. _Anywhere_ would be better than being trapped here. Anywhere would… and he started to imagine it.

“To consider that there could be a timeline where monsters were never placed in the underground. Or an Underground in which the king’s family still lived. Or an Underground where you didn’t have one hit point.”

Maybe there could be a better place.

He felt the shards of himself clinking back together.

Maybe there was a Papyrus in there still who didn’t resent him. And that tiny hope took form. Maybe there was a place where Papyrus still wanted him.

Sans materialized in thin air and plummeted the rest of his fall into wet stone. He groaned. To say he hurt all over would be an understatement. Every fragment of his bones was on fire. Even his marrow was sore. His hands twitched a few times as newfound life sputtered through them.

Where was he?

The roaring of the water ringing off the cavern’s walls answered him. Ah, he was in Waterfall. Shakily, he hauled himself onto his elbows. The ground beneath him felt softer than stone. He ran his skeletal fingers through the grainy texture below him. He didn’t recall there being sand in Waterfall.

This place was similar and not similar to the Waterfall he knew. Streams of water cascaded elegantly down deep blue, stone walls. The ground broke into little islands where water pooled between them. It was dark, but charmingly blue flowers littered the landscape, unlike the red ones he was familiar with. They warmed the pathways and walls with a vibrant blue glow.

There was also a lot of sand. Grey sand. Littered around in thick piles across the floor. He recognized the dust quickly. He was familiar with dust. He was lying in a pile of dust.

He jumped to his feet, alarmed. Why was there so much dust?

He stumbled backwards on shaky legs that could barely hold his weight. His sneakers tapped into a patch of Echo Flowers behind him. They quivered out their secrets. The wave sending a ripple through the flowers nearby.

“No! No, please don’t.”

“AUGH! Ack!”

“I-I’ll give you anything.”

“I’m begging you.”

“Have mercy-“

Sans scrambled away from the death throes. The flowers whispered out fervent pleas after him. One echo launching off another cry until they all just jumbled into one desperate chorus. Sans backed away further. It was common knowledge to avoid the Echo Flowers in the Waterfall he knew. They would give away your position –and, with this much dust, he didn’t want to see what came to listen to the noise.

On shaky legs, he staggered into another patch behind him.

“SAAAAAAAAaaaaaannnnnss,” The echo flower wailed in his brother’s voice. Sans jumped. It was so desperate. Broken. “Sans, Sans!” it cried.

It kicked off a symphony of other echoes. A giggling child joined the choir.

“Sans.” He he he!

“Please, no!” heheh hah!

“SAAAAANNNNS!” Ha ha ha!

“Mercy!” HA HA HA HA HAH!

It roared throughout the entire cavern, rivaling the waterfalls.

Sans could barely stand, but there was no way in hell he was going to stay here. He ran away from the tormented melody. His legs couldn’t take him very quickly. One was still severed, held together by only a red-soaked cloth. He wobbled hazardously as he tripped all over himself to get away. His shadow chasing him across the blue glow on the cavern walls.

He’d never been in such a bad condition. He never would’ve been able to live to be in such a bad condition before.

What “better place”, brat? He should be dead. That was the deal. He shouldn’t be hearing his brother’s screams. He didn’t want to hear them. This wasn’t better.

He cleared as much distance as he could, until he came to the road between Snowdin and Waterfall. The snow was infinitely more difficult to navigate than Waterfall’s smooth floors. He only struggled out a few steps into the snowy pathway, before he lost his footing.

Sans fell face first into the snow. He didn’t bother getting up. Why was he still alive? He’d lost his hit point. He was supposed to be dead. He was supposed to be done with this. He didn’t want to feel. He let the cold seep into his bones. He let it take him. He probably laid there for hours. A thin layer of snow threatening to obscure him from existence forever. He could feel the chill ticking away at his health. It was almost over, right?

 Quick, lengthy footfalls approached.

“s-sans?” A shaky voice asked.

Sans didn’t respond. He was supposed to be dust on the wind right now.

The snow crunched down next to him. “sans, are you ok?” It asked uncertainly. Cautiously.

“No,” He responded hollowly. “I’m dead now.”

Roughly, he was pulled from the snow. Hanging by nothing but his hood, he sank into the furred rim of his leather jacket. Bloody hell. This was the second time someone picked him up like this today. He would’ve struggled, but he froze still when he saw who it was.

Papyrus.

A very angry Papyrus.

“you look alive to me.”

“B-Boss!” He stammered out, half from fear and half from freeze.

The look the skeleton fixed him with was colder than the frostbite. He held Sans’ gaze. Boss had noticeable bags beneath his empty sockets. Sans blinked stupidly back at him. He could barely move, let alone struggle. Boss would dust him.

Boss’ jaw quivered. A heavy stream of orange-tinted tears spilled out of his sockets. They slipped silently down his pronounced cheekbones. “why would you say that?”

Sans was stiff, frozen solid, not because he’d just spent hours in the snow, but because he hadn’t seen his little brother cry in years. Tormented, tear-streaked eyes were so foreign on Boss’ face. Sans could feel his own jaw begin to quiver, as he fought not to tear his own eyes away.

Boss had watched him dust.

Guilt, sank into his stomach like lead. It curled in the empty pit painfully, kicking out the last of his strength to knot in his core. His limbs fell limply to his sides.

He knew he should say something. Anything. Even a joke would do.

He parted his teeth hesitantly to let his words bubble out. He hacked once. Twice. He coughed roughly and red liquid spewed from his mouth. It dribbled down his chin.

He’d just spit on Boss. He’d just-

Boss looked horrified.

Mortified, he quickly tried to rub away the evidence dribbling down his chin with his sleeves. “So-sorr- !“ He stammered out. He could still feel the substance at the back of his throat, threatening to spill out. “-ry.”

Why was he apologizing? He knew it wouldn’t help. He’d just angered Boss.

Boss tugged him closer. Sans flinched for the impact, but it didn’t come. The larger skeleton wrapped his second arm around his legs, and pulled Sans close to his chest. It was a much more comfortable position, sitting against his torso. The hand, that had held him at a distance before, curled around his shoulders, clutching the smaller form close to his ribcage, shielding him from the snow. “shh. shh. it’s gonna be ok, sans.”

It sounded like he was saying that phrase more for himself than for Sans’ sake because he repeated it a second time, “it’s gonna be ok, sans.” Sans shivered against the touch. He didn’t trust it. He could feel the taller skeleton stumble backwards in the snow. Could feel his shoulders twist as he looked around frantically, hugging the injured skeleton tightly. He could hear the other’s soul thudding loudly against his ribcage; a rhythm of fear. How could he trust that phrase when the other clearly didn’t seem to believe it himself?

And then, Boss took a shortcut.

Boss couldn’t take shortcuts, but Sans felt the speed. He felt the void whiz by them. Felt the nauseating shift in space. He clung onto the fabric on Papyrus’ chest.

Fabric? On Papyrus’ chest? Didn’t his brother always wear armor?

Sans blinked open his eyes. He was clutching onto an orange hoodie.

Would Boss wear something so impractically defenseless?

He pulled his head away from where he’d nestled it in the hoodie’s shoulder. Now leaning so far away from the strange garment that he threatened to fall over backwards out of the hold. He tore his eyes away from it to look to the side.

There was a bookcase on the back wall, with titles like “Fluffy Bunny”, filled to the brim on every shelf. There was a computer in the corner, with a very small, tall chair at the desk. On the other side was a table with action figures lined and posed on its surface. There was even a bed in the corner designed to look like a racecar. Everything was bright blue. Everything was absurd. The carpet, the walls, the bed. They were inside a child’s room now.

Papyrus set Sans down on the ridiculous bed gently. “wait here,” Boss commanded. “don’t go anywhere.” He stepped away like he was going to turn away, but glanced back at Sans nervously, like he feared he might leave. “don’t move,” He stressed, before he stepped through a shortcut.

Boss couldn’t use shortcuts.

That wasn’t Boss.

Where the fuck was he? He stole a glance at the childish room once more. He didn’t like this. He felt so out of place, sitting there with his worn leather jacket and filthy bones on an impossibly fluffy mattress, in an impossibly cheerful room. But Not-Boss had commanded him not to move. Did a command still count, though, if it wasn’t Boss?

He decided it didn’t.

He hopped off the bed. The dirty fabric holding his femur together decided at that exact moment to loosen. His bone shifted unnervingly below him and he crashed to the ground with a thud.

Sans peeled his eyes open as he grit through the pain to glance down at his leg. It was dislocated. And not in the sense he could just pop it back into place. It was snapped clean in two. He could see the marrow. The fabric had come undone and the carpet was beginning to stain red. His vision swam as he watched the red pool on the carpet.

Had his body forgotten what one hit point meant? It meant he wasn’t supposed to fuckin’ be alive to feel the sting of a snapped bone!

Not-Boss blipped back into the room. “sans?”

Shit. He’d caught him disobeying orders. He was going to hit him. He was going to beat him. He was going to punish him.

“sans!” The large skeleton took a step closer.

With a start, Sans pulled himself further away, scrambling beneath the bed. He must’ve looked desperate, clawing to get away from the other. He even left his leg behind to gain distance.

Not-Boss froze. “sans,” he called desolately. Slowly he crouched down to his knees. “sans, it’s ok. it’s me, Papyrus.”

So, he _was_ Papyrus. That wasn’t good. That wasn’t ok. Papyrus had caught him disobeying orders.

“com’ere,” Papyrus reached towards him.

To Sans’ impaired vision, it looked like a hazy shadow reaching out for him. He flinched.

Papyrus retracted his hand. Slowly, he got down onto his elbows, so he was at the exact same level as Sans was. He rested his head against the carpet, staring into Sans’ eyes. Summing up the fear he saw there.

Sans fought to focus on his face.

“sans, it’s going to be alright,” He said softly in a worried, sluggish drawl. “it’s me, Papyrus.” He had pronounced cheekbones like Papyrus’. He had a strong chin like Papyrus’. He didn’t have fangs like Papyrus did. His skull wasn’t scarred like Papyrus’ was. His eyes weren’t red like Papyrus’ were. His expression looked so tormented. “your brother,” He added.

Sans could only stare back silently, sockets wide, cowered into the space beneath the bed. That wasn’t his brother.

“do you… remember me?” He asked.

Yes. No. That was Papyrus, but that wasn’t his brother. That was the second time someone sounded like he was supposed to already know them. What the fuck was going on?

_“Sans the Skeleton,”_ the memory prodded him. _“You’ve heard the theory of parallel universes, correct?”_

That fucking brat.

This was his brother –and wasn’t his brother, wasn’t it?

“sans,” this other Papyrus called again, pained. He looked like he wanted to snatch Sans up immediately, but was holding himself back.

“I heard ‘ya,” he rumbled in a quiet growl, glaring back at the stranger. His soul was still thudding a mile a minute, but he felt more angry than scared now.

Papyrus looked so lost looking into Sans’ eyes. He probably couldn’t find what he was searching for. “sans,” he said again. He sounded less sure this time. A tinge of fear in his voice. “i just want to help,” He pressed on. A backdrop of children’s toys and cheerful blue print silhouetted this outrageous orange hoodie. Carefully, he reached a hand out towards Sans. “let me help, please.”

A universe where Boss said please.

It was so stupid. So ridiculous. He laughed. It started as a slow, nervous chuckle, but soon he was just howling with laughter. It was the best joke he’d ever heard. It hurt to laugh. A few tears even slipped out of his sockets; the joke was so damn good.

This place was a joke. A bad joke.

That kid sure knew how to tell some good ones.

After a laugh like that; he was too sore to shuffle away this time when Papyrus reached for him. He was dragged out from under the bed, leaving a red trail behind him. Papyrus pulled Sans onto his lap on the floor. Sans was way too spent to attempt to correct the position. “there we go, bud,” This Papyrus sounded relieved to have him back. “you’re gonna be ok.” He reached to retrieve Sans’ discarded leg. “you’re gonna be fine.” An arm wrapped around his sternum, to keep the woozy Sans from slumping over. “i ‘gotcha,” He purred.

Papyrus rolled up the leg of his shorts. He set the broken femur against its other half. His large hand clasped down on the bones, holding them together. A warm, orange light, pooled in his hand at the bone.

Sans stared in shocked transfixion at the light.

_Healing magic_. Papyrus was wasting healing magic on _him_. Healing magic ate away at the user’s magic reserves. It left them vulnerable. They’d never used it in his universe. It was practically a myth, yet here it was.

Maybe this Papyrus didn’t like his toys broken?

Sans felt the warm sensation enveloping his thigh. Felt the bone reforming between them and –suddenly, felt the burning sting of his once detached leg return to him.

Hot, agonizing waves shot through his bones.

He bucked into the torso behind him. Sans grit his fangs defiantly against the pain, refusing to cry out like he wanted to. Papyrus’ arm tightened around him. “shh. shh. i gotcha.” An agonizing minute passed like that; Papyrus whispering soft, useless comforts to him as Sans struggled against the pain. He was starting to wish healing magic had just been a myth.

Then, the light died. His leg was reattached. It wasn’t seeping red liquid onto everything. He could probably even walk on it, but he still felt like hell. He slumped into the bones behind him. Papyrus squeezed him tight against them. “good job, good job,” He mumbled into Sans’ ear.

Boss was praising him. Should he laugh again? Sans’ grin set on his skull. He felt like he wanted to laugh, but he didn’t think he’d last through another aching account like before. He was so tired. His Papyrus would beat him for falling asleep like this. He didn’t see why this Papyrus wouldn’t. He tried keeping his eyes open, but he ended up falling asleep against the orange hoodie.

 

 

 

Sans felt warmth all over. It was hot. It was uncomfortable. Wearily, he opened his eyes to the smell of something burning. The ceiling was blue. The walls were blue. He guessed he hadn’t been dreaming. He rolled over and felt the most comfortable mattress dent below him. He forced his worn bones into a sitting position on the bed. Something heavy was on his lap. Groggily he looked down.

Above the sheets, the Papyrus in an orange hoodie was sprawled across the bed, snoozing easily. Half of the tall skeleton weighing down Sans’ lap, the other half lying across the floor. He seemed to be asleep. A lit cigarette fallen on the blanket in front of his mouth.

The sheets were on fire.

“AGH!” Sans shouted. He kicked away the flaming covers. The budding flame crackled away as the wind whipped it. Papyrus slipped off the mattress, landing with a thud on the floor.

“nyeh!”

Sans pounced at the covers now at the end of the bed, smothering the flame with the other sheets. Papyrus bolted up from the floor, landing on his feet with a dexterity Sans didn’t think the skeleton had been capable of. He looked around disoriented. One eye erupted in an intense orange flame. With a low rumble, He demanded, “what happened?” He seemed tense, ready to attack, but Sans hardly noticed.

Sans spun around at him, his own eye flaming red. “You set the fuckin’ sheets on fire, ya _bonehead_!”

Papyrus blinked at him, uncomprehending. Slowly, he seemed to relax.

Sans’ fire seemed to fizzle out.

Shit. He’d just yelled at Boss. A Boss. He’d just yelled at some version of Boss. He held his breath.

“did i?” The Papyrus drawled distantly. The fire in his eye crackled out. The fight completely left him. The lanky skeleton slouched into a lazy posture.

Sans felt his cheeks growing hot with rage. The small skeleton huffed and turned around. It was probably best not to yell at a Papyrus. He occupied himself with smothering the sheets together for good measure. They’d probably be ruined. It was going to be his fault.

He glanced nervously over his shoulder at this version of his brother.

Papyrus seemed to be staring at him, a slight smile on his teeth, something akin to adoration in his eyes.

Sans froze. It was an awkward stare, it left him tense.

“how ‘ya feeling, bud?” This Papyrus asked.

His bones were still aching, he felt like he didn’t have nearly enough magic to function, but to say he was anything other than ‘better’ from yesterday would be a flat lie. Yesterday, he’d felt himself crumble to dust. Today, he was sitting in a plush bed. Boss didn’t accept lies. “B-better,” Sans mumbled, glancing off to the side.

“you sure?” Papyrus asked. He eased onto the bed, sitting across from Sans. Sans felt painfully aware of his new position, but kept his eyes averted. Easily, the lanky skeleton reached out for Sans. “those bones look pretty roughed up.” The back of his hand brushed Sans’ skull.

Sans slapped the hand away. He didn’t like to be touched. It had only happened yesterday because he could barely move then, but he was better now. He pressed himself to the racecar’s footboard, far away from the other. He glared at this stranger.

Papyrus looked shocked. He blinked a few times absently, as if he couldn’t comprehend not touching stranger’s faces shortly after meeting them. Sans huddled into himself at the footboard, deterring him from trying again. Scowling at him like if he tried, he’d bite him with his fangs.

Slowly, his hand fell to his lap. The taller skeleton rose from the bed stiffly. He shoved one hand into his hoodie pocket dejectedly. With his other, he picked up a pillow from the bed. As he walked out of the room with his long gait, he whacked the pillow into Sans’ face. Smothering the cushion into his skull, knocking Sans over onto the mattress, and wiping away the dirty look he’d worn.

“get some more rest. i’ll be back up.”

And how was he supposed to do that? Sans ripped the pillow away from his head to shoot daggers at this bonehead who’d set the sheets on fire in the first place, but the door closed before he could catch him.

That sorry sack of shit. Was he throwing a tantrum? Boss didn’t throw tantrums like some pouting child. Well …to call them tantrums didn’t really do the aftermath justice. 

He shuddered.

So what, then? He wanted Sans to sleep with these charcoal blankets? The little skeleton held up the smoking blanket in front of him. A hole had burned through the first sheet; a light wisp of smoke still rising off the damage.

Well, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been ordered to do worse things before. He’d done a lot worse, actually. It was an odd command, but it was harmless in comparison.

He huffed with a sigh and stared down at the floor, defeated. The blue carpet was still sporting red stains from last night. He reached over the side of the bed and picked up the dark fabric that had bound his leg before. He thumbed over the rough cloth. It was stained red, coated in a hardened residue, and one edge of it had been frayed, but he still recognized it. A strip of the human’s cloak. What the hell had they done?

The door to the room clicked open behind him.

Startled, Sans scrambled to get under the covers.

Why did he do that? Hadn’t he decided a command didn’t count if it wasn’t Boss’? Old habits died hard. What was he thinking? There was no way this Papyrus could hope to pass as Boss. He pulled the burnt covers close to his face, eyeing the stranger wearily from behind them.

He walked with a slouch.  Boss always carried himself tall, proud. His eyes looked tired, weary. Boss had a piercing gaze full of confidence. “i got us some food,” He said. He spoke sloppily. Boss always spoke with purpose and poise. “there wasn’t a lot of options, so this is all i could get us.”

The taller skeleton set two bowls of a white, fluffy substance onto the bed. He pulled out a small clear jar filled with a translucent brown substance. He unscrewed the top. Then, with a spoon, dropped several scoops into each of the bowls. He set one of the bowls closer to Sans expectantly.

He eyed it hesitantly. When Papyrus glanced away to his own bowl, Sans snatched it up. The bowl was chipped and cold to the touch, a white substance piled within.

“This is s-snow.”

“with honey,” Papyrus added proudly.

Sans didn’t have any words.

Papyrus picked up his own bowl and took a bite, watching Sans. “not hungry?” He asked.

Sans didn’t respond, but set the bowl back down on the bed.

“well i am,” He continued when he realized he lacked a conversation partner. “when i get my magic back up, maybe i can even help heal those bones of yours,” He said, pointing a thin finger to the thick crack in Sans’ skull.

Sans leaned away from his hand, wincing at the thought. The healing magic yesterday had been really painful. As if all the pain of the injury had been multiplied by the length of time he’d had it; as well as the length of time it would’ve taken to heal on its own. Sans had had the crack in his skull since he was a kid. There were some fresh injuries, but most of his bones’ scars were old and had been painful. For a monster as weak as Sans, a majority had been life threatening. He didn’t want to re-live any of them.

“Don’t you d-dare,” He growled.

“you look like hell,” Papyrus countered, eyebrows shooting up like Sans didn’t already _know that_ , but he seemed to catch himself. “sorry,” he mumbled, “language.” Language wasn’t the issue.

Sans didn’t care about language. “ _Fuck no_ ,” He insisted slowly enough for the bonehead to understand, glaring at this overly familiar skeleton. It felt weird; saying no to Boss’ face, but this wasn’t Boss. Boss wouldn’t be caught dead saying please or sorry.

Papyrus half shrugged in an evasive way, as if none of his complaints really mattered. “if you’re not going to eat, you’ll have a hard time stopping me,” He threw a teasing wink Sans’ way. As if to prove his point, Papyrus dug into his bowl.

Asshole. Sans picked up the bowl and took a bite. The gooey substance on top was sickeningly sweet. Sans sneered at the taste.

Papyrus laughed lightly to the side. “you always hated honey.”

“I don’t know you,” Sans grunted at him, but kept eating. It was hardly delicious or filling, but he could feel his magic increasing. Marginally.

Papyrus finished easily, then watched Sans suffer through every bite. As he ate, Sans could feel eyes trailing across his bones; across his fanged mandible, and across every vertebrae on his neck that wasn’t hidden behind the furred leather jacket. They trailed down to his chipped and worn fingers. He tried to pay it no mind.

After an age of silence, Papyrus dropped his head onto the mattress with a loud, exasperated sigh. “sans,” His voice was drained, all sense of playful pestering gone. “what happened to you?”

Sans opened his mouth to answer, but closed it. How could he answer that? A seven-year old, human child dragged me into a boiler room and chucked me into an old machine? It sounded unrealistic even to him!

No answer came.

“sorry,” The larger skeleton choked out. The silence seemed to solidify in the air. The apology sounded so honest, it was unsettling to Sans. “i’m so sorry.” He turned his head to look at Sans. The weariness in his eyes was so apparent now. “if i had known you were –if i had known; i would’ve-“ He reached a hand out towards Sans again.

That wasn’t something Boss would say. Those words were unusual. Unnatural. That wasn’t even something Papyrus would say. It bothered him. Weighed on him. They sounded like alarm bells in Sans’ mind.

Sans scattered into the far corner of the bed out of the stranger’s reach, promptly dropping the bowl of snow.

Papyrus looked pained by Sans’ reaction. “sans, please, just let me look at your injuries,” He begged. “i would never hurt you. we’re brothers.”

“No, we ain’t.”

The lanky skeleton swallowed hard and retracted his hand once again. Anguish etched onto his features. Slowly he hefted himself off the bed into a sitting position on the floor. Allowing Sans some breathing room. “sans,” he whispered, looking down at his lap. “do you even know where you are?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Sans knew where he was; he was in a parallel universe. At least he was pretty sure he was, but he was in some strange happy-go-lucky blue room he’d never seen before. He looked to the ridiculous bed, to the vibrant walls, to the toys and storybooks lining the walls. This room was too big to be his room. Where was this? Where was he? “Y-your room?” He offered, unsure.

The other skeleton chuckled darkly. “no. no, this is your room.”

His room? Well, not _his_ room, surely. The Sans of this universe’s room. Slowly his eyes trailed across the belongings in the space uncertainly. How could this stuff belong to any version of him? He didn’t like any of it. Well, maybe the mattress. It was a soft mattress.

“you don’t recognize it?” He asked. His eyes rose from his lap to lock onto Sans’ red ones. “do you… recognize me?” That voice. So hopeful.

“Pa -,” He started, but he let the sound die in his throat. Where was the owner of this room? Where was this universe’s Sans? It was _bothering_ him. The question knotted in his stomach. His mind wandered to the echo flowers. To the piles and piles of dust. To the screams of his name echoed in his brother’s voice. Then, back to these hopeful looking orange eyes. He could put two and two together. He grit his fangs; this wouldn’t go well. But it wasn’t Sans’ fault this Papyrus had succumbed to dangerously wishful thinking.

“Papyrus,” he bit out; and some hope started to rise in the other skeleton. “’Yer n-not my brother.”

He probably could’ve just punched Papyrus square in the jaw to get a less painful look. It probably would’ve been a lot easier, too.

He stared hollowly at Sans for a few long seconds. Papyrus tried to force himself to smile. “no. no, i’m Papyrus. your-“

“Not my brother,” Sans finished for him.

“heh,” the other laughed humorlessly. His eyelights had gone out. He looked so far away and distant now. He wasn’t trying to grab or touch Sans anymore. “it’ll be ok,” he said sluggishly, but it sounded like he was saying it more for himself than for Sans, “you’ll see. you’ll remember. i’m,” he broke off, but tried again, “i’m your-“

He was like a broken record. If Sans didn’t stop this soon it would never end. This Papyrus thought Sans had been his brother. He was clinging onto the slim hope that Sans was his brother, back from the dead. That was why he had bothered to help him, but if his brother had a room like this; surely, Sans didn’t fit the bill.

And it was _bothering_ him.

“W-what’s ‘yer brother like?” He asked, interrupting the endless loop.

Carefully, those piercing orange eyelights faded back in. They searched his face uncertainly.

He could see it, couldn’t he?

Sans wasn’t his brother.

“Tell me ‘bout ‘yer brother,” He repeated again in his gruff voice.

“he’s,” Papyrus started hesitantly, “he’s always energetic.”

Yet here Sans was, slumped into a corner of the bed.

“you can never get him to slow down,” a small smile tugged Papyrus’ teeth.

You could barely get Sans to start.

“he’s really loud.”

Hardly.

“he likes to cook, but he isn’t very good.” He spoke fondly.

Sans had to cook well or Boss would punish him. He didn’t like being punished.

“he doesn’t give up.”

Sans had given up a long time ago.

“he smiles all the time.”

Sans did have a bit of a permanent grin, but…

“he’s always happy.”

Ah, the kicker. Silence filled the space between them.

Papyrus hadn’t torn his eyes away when he spoke. Surely, he couldn’t find those traits in Sans as he listed them. Sans could feel the vacant loss in Papyrus’ eyes as logic blew away his hopes and realization crept in.

Sans wasn’t his brother.

Sans glanced awkwardly off to the side, “He s-sounds pretty cute,” he mumbled, “’Yer brother.”

“yeah,” Papyrus said stiffly, a hollow tone filling his voice, “he was.”

“Where is he?” He knew he shouldn’t ask. He already knew the answer, yet he had to know. He could feel a fire churning in his soul. He knew what was bothering him.

“he’s…,” He could hear the larger skeleton swallow roughly. “he’s fallen down.”

“He dusted?” Sans said tactlessly. “How d-do ‘ya know?” He needed to hear it. It wouldn’t stop bothering him, unless he heard it from Papyrus’ mouth.

Papyrus’ face was stern now. His jaw was clenched tightly, sockets dead. “i… i watched him die.”

Silence _should_ have hung thick in the air after a bomb like that, but it didn’t. That was all Sans needed to hear.

“’Ya just _watched_ him die?” Sans asked, an edge in his voice. Boss would _never_ just watch Sans die. He thought of the lava roiling below. He thought of cinders dancing in the air as Boss drew a long crimson sword. Boss had put him in some shitty situations over the years, but he’d never just let Sans die. “You just watched?” He asked again hopelessly; angrily.

Papyrus didn’t have any words to offer. His face had fallen into a mask of despair.

Sans felt rage lace through him. “Why didn’t ‘ya do somethin’?”

Maybe his rage was misplaced. After all, it wasn’t like he had anything to do with this joke of a universe. What happened to its Sans shouldn’t involve him. Sans grit his fangs together, yet he was furious at this wannabe Papyrus. This imposter.

“what’s the point?” The fraud asked vacantly, as if he’d said the words a thousand times and was getting sick of hearing it himself. He slumped limply against the bed, devoid of life.

Sans stood up. He grabbed a fistful of the stupid, vibrant hoodie and pulled the bonehead roughly forward, jostling him. He set his fangs dangerously close to Papyrus’ blank look.

“’Ya wanna know why we ain’t brothers?” He growled dangerously. “My brother would  n e v e r  just leave me to dust.”

Not even when Sans wanted him to.

He tossed this imposter aside, who fell limply against the bed where he landed, as if he’d lost his last hit point. Sans stormed out of the room. He didn’t need that bonehead’s help. Sans didn’t need a soft bed, or good food, or sweet words, or a pretty skull. How could you survive like that? What good were meaningless comforts if your own brother didn’t have your back? If he wouldn’t protect you?

Boss could be dangerous. Boss could be crude. Boss wasn’t good to him often, but if he’d learned anything after years at his side; he knew Papyrus didn’t want him dead. He’d been afraid Boss would give up on him and get rid off him; sure, but when push came to shove; _his_ Papyrus had never just let him die.

The door swung open as he kicked it aside. He wasn’t surprised the house the bedroom was connected to was eerily similar to his own. It was just a façade. A farce. He stormed down the familiar stairs.

His Papyrus was strong. His Papyrus was brilliant. His Papyrus was capable of protecting a monster with only one hit point in an entire Underground of murderers. His Papyrus could even protect Sans from himself.

He threw open the front door. Livid, he stepped into the billowing snow outside. As he trudged away, he didn’t bother to look back.

That wasn’t his little brother. That was some mockery masquerading as Papyrus.

Somewhere _his Papyrus_ was waiting for him.

Alone.

In _that place._

He thought of going back to Boss. Boss would be mad. He’d probably be punished. The longer he was away, the worse it was going to be. If Boss decided to dust him after all of this; fuck it. He’d allow it. But at the back of his mind, he held onto the slim hope that Boss might actually be happy to see him. The way this universe’s Papyrus had cried when he had picked Sans up out of the snow.

He could remember Boss’ worried face as he’d reached for him.

If he was going to get back to his little brother; he needed a plan. But he had no bright ideas. He figured he could just start where it had all began. He could head back to the Core. The human had called it the core of all worlds. Didn’t that mean there had to be one here, too?

So, Sans trudged off into the snow. He wanted to teleport, but that would require a familiarity with the area he just didn’t have. This place was anything but familiar.

Snowdin had bright buildings with open windows. He didn’t see even one boarded up. Some of the doors even hung open, rattling gently, as the wind blew by. There was a tree with ribbons and baubles strapped to it in the center of town. Yet for all the cheer the town seemed to muster, not a soul was in it.

Waterfall was the same. Empty. Water cascaded down the deep blue walls and fell off into the abyss on the opposite side of the pathways, taking treasures from the surface with it to its grave. He tip-toed around the blue echo flowers this time, avoiding them like one might avoid the red ones back in his Underground. When the wind howled through the cavern, upsetting the flowers; silent screams could still be heard echoing off the walls.

The amount of dust littering Waterfall’s floor was starting to make sense. Sans was starting to think no one was alive, except, of course, whoever had made all that dust in the first place. Papyrus was still alive. It could have been him, but Sans didn’t peg the bonehead capable of it. He was a coward. Plus, the guy ate honeyed snow.

 It was possible there was another monster out there still; hunting the weak.

That was a thought Sans was used to. Peril was something he was familiar with.

He continued his trek through Hotland. The steamy red roads looked no different from his home. The Core loomed in the distance. Lava stirring below the platforms, kicking up heat in waves of discomfort. It even had a white lab that he steered wide to avoid. After all, amorphous beasts with acidic saliva could be responsible for the lack of monsters about.

He slowed as he reached the MTT Resort. Here, it was labelled as the NTT Resort. In his Underground he would’ve never gone near the place. It was notorious for the death and torture of countless weak monsters. The only way he knew to the Core was through here, though.

Carefully, he approached the large glass doors of the resort. He swallowed his nerve when they swished open. Slowly, he peeked his head into the lobby.

 A vibrant, blue carpet led into the lobby, atop a tiled, blue checkered floor. A statue of a similar box-shaped robot towered in a fountain in the center of the room. It spilled water off to the side of the fountain, soaking the floor. It was unnervingly similar.

Timidly, he stepped inside. He didn’t want to waste any time here. Nervously, he shuffled across the space. He tried to be quiet. Silently, slipping through the space unnoticed. The place seemed empty like everywhere else, but this was the last place he’d actually want to run into another person.

His footsteps seemed to resound in the large space.

But no one came to greet him. No one came to stalk the footsteps. No one shuffled away in the far, shadowy corners of the place.

The door on the opposite side of the lobby swished open as he approached. He backed out of them, keeping a wary eye on the resort. He walked backwards across half the bridge beyond before he turned around.

The core towered in front of him. Looming high into the cavern’s ceiling. It was hot. Blistering steam billowing off of the metallic walls, as pipes hissed to release the pressure. Fire licked at his bones from below. Ashe and cinders coiled around him, choking away his air. He swallowed. It had taken him less than a few seconds to muster the courage to approach it.

Yet, from behind, Sans heard a cheerful voice.

“Didn’t I kill you already?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter: Sans is a clever bastard.  
> And he is a bastard. I think he shattered Papy’s heart into a billion little pieces.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  CHANGE LOG:  
> Chapter 2: Minor Updates  
> Chapter 3: Minor Updates (When you post things late at night and, ugh!)  
> Hello, readers! As this is a WIP story, I promised to keep a change log at the start of new chapters. As such, please note, chapter 2 has gotten a minor update. This is simply the addition of descriptive sentences and grammar corrections to better the story. For future reference, a MINOR update would not be something you would have to go back and re-read to continue forward, but if I ever post a MAJOR update, please go re-read that chapter. (‘Fer realzies.) A MAJOR update would mean you are going to get lost in the future without the added information.  
> Thanks for your time!  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> Mandatory Recap:  
> “You’re going to a better place.”  
> “Anywhere’s better than here.”  
> Proceeds to fall into post-genocide Underswap.  
> “Well, fuck.”  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Sans spun at the voice, but no one was behind him. He noticed a few strands of brown hair at the bottom of his vision.

He looked down.

Before him stood a small child, unnervingly close. They were dressed in a striped, green shirt and khaki shorts. Their skin was baby smooth. They peered up at him with piercing red eyes beneath their short, neat, brown hair. Their cheeks were flushed pink. As they smiled up at him, their eyes pinched closed.

It was the human. And like before, they held a large, silver steak knife in their hand.

“Heh,” Sans chuckled; relaxing a bit at the sight of the little weirdo. “Yeah, ‘ya did, K-kiddo.”

The child tilted their head at him curiously.

His hand fell naturally to the child’s head, where he ruffled their hair. “No one would believe a cute kid like you’d off me; ‘Ya really left me _without a leg to stand on.”_

Their smile fell into a small, thin curve. “That’s not good,” They cooed, but they seemed less happy.

Not the reaction he’d expected.

_“_ Y-yeah _,”_ He mumbled, retracting his hand. He tried again. _“_ I had _one foot in the grave,_ but I’m _back on my feet now._ ” He rocked on his toes awkwardly to make his point.

They irked an eyebrow at him. “Papy won’t come if you’re here.”

Maybe this wasn’t quite the human he knew. They looked so similar, though.

“Papy?” He asked. Did they mean Papyrus? This conversation was going a bit off-track. Sans could feel some sweat bead on his forehead. He hoped he was just hot. “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Sans stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m leavin’, anyway.” He turned back towards the core, starting to shuffle away.

Sans felt it at his back, a bloodthirsty malice that belonged back in his Underground. He stepped into a shortcut right as the blade missed his back, swishing through hot air instead of fragile bone. He exited the shortcut at the start of the bridge, only a few feet from the human. He wanted to go further, but he didn’t know the area well enough to move very far away.

The child turned to regard him, lowering the knife, but it was still tense, ready. “That’s new,” They chimed, the smile returning to their lips. It curled their mouth in the uncomfortable, wicked way that Sans was used to seeing smiles deform to.

So, they did mean to harm him. His human had been rather adamant about not killing him, though, right? Perhaps this whole place was just backwards.

“I don’t really have a _bone_ to pick with ‘ya, kid,” He grumbled out, eyeing the kid with heavy sockets.

They flipped the hold on their knife. This particular hold was better for slashing rather than stabbing. Their face seemed set. Determined.

 “’m not really into babysitting, but we could play a game if ‘ya want to.” He shrugged nonchalantly, letting the fire rise in his eye. Magic ready. Fangs grinning wide. He kept his posture unreadable. Slack and seemingly lazy, but he was counting his shortcuts. He didn’t have a lot of options.

The child stalked towards him.

With gravity, he grabbed their soul, throwing them off the side of the metallic bridge, into the lava.

If only it were that easy. The child slammed the knife into the piping at their feet. Sparks flew off the piping as it was cut across, clean in two, steam bursting free of the pipe in its wake. The metals screamed against each other as the child flew wide to the side, but their descent seemed to be slowed. They screeched to a stop at the edge of the bridge, half dangling off of it, one hand still clutching the knife.

It was such a ridiculous move. It shouldn’t have been possible.

The human hauled themselves back onto the bridge, using the knife as leverage.

Sans glanced at their level: Fifteen.

Sans nearly blanched. That was over double his level. Fuck, it was higher than Papyrus’! “G-got a lot of _love_ to give there, huh, k-kid?”

They stalked towards him again.

Sans summoned large bones that burst from the floor erratically. Steam hissed into the air, rolling with the ash and cinders in a fiery haze. Sans watched as the human nimbly dodged the protruding bones, one after the other, until the steam’s thick cloud obscured them from view. Until only the roaring hiss of the pipes could be heard. He lost sight of them in the mist. The steam cloud rolled ever closer to him.

 They burst out of the fog, suddenly, slashing wide.

Sans took a shortcut one step to the right, narrowly dodging it. The blade swished back his way. He dodged again. Barely. He didn’t know this area. He didn’t have a lot of shortcuts. Hell, he probably wouldn’t’ve been able to dodge at all if the area wasn’t so similar. His options were limited to one or two step dodges. The knife chased everywhere he went. He couldn’t get an edge in; he couldn’t gain distance.

Sans danced between the shortcuts, a knife meeting him at every exit. He was losing ground, they were practically at the resort’s entrance. The skeleton curled his hand into a fist at the small of his back. Hidden from view, he formed a long, red bone. It wasn’t as magnificent as Papyrus’ bone sword, it lacked an edge, but it would have to do. When he stepped out of his next shortcut, he swung the bone hard at the kid. A knife blocked it.

He disappeared into a shortcut. From behind he swung again. The knife clattered against it.

Sans vanished. From the left, he swung again. It hit a metallic edge. A resounding clang confirming the block. They smirked. They could block anything he threw at them. They were getting too caught up in this game. They were only paying attention to the bright, red bone. Sans stepped into a shortcut.

He swung again. The knife met it, eagerly.

Sans kicked them in the chest.

They stumbled away.

Now that he had some distance, Sans clutched at their soul with his gravity. He threw them into the wall to their left, but the human flew through it. Glass shattered to the floor. The window broke. The piercing scream of shards smashing joined the hiss of the steam.

Sans didn’t let them land, didn’t let them rest. He threw them back through the other window behind him. He didn’t drop their soul. Sans pulled them back towards him. He smacked them against the floor and ceiling repeatedly, dribbling them like a basketball. He dipped into his magic, summoning rows and rows of red bones around the bouncing victim. Like jaws of teeth waiting eagerly to consume their prey. He swung his foot out, changing his stance, and shot them across the bridge, into the heavy, metal door on the opposite side.

They hit it so hard, they practically dented it.

A barrage of red bones pelted the door after them. One after the other sinking into the door’s thick frame. If it wasn’t dented before; it was now.

This time, Sans stalked towards _them_.

Sans slipped his hands back into his pockets. He dropped their soul. The human slumped into the red bones with natural gravity. They would have fallen, but they were pinned to the door by a maze of bones. The small form hung limply between them.

 Sans approached the door, steam parting in his path. He shrugged in a mocking way as he neared. “Didn’t say I’d let ‘ya win. I ain’t gonna go easy on ‘ya just ‘cause you’re still a brat.”

Sans stopped at the door. Three bones were impaled through the child’s torso, two in the stomach and one beneath their left shoulder. Somehow, they’d managed to twist and turn all of their other limbs to narrowly dodge the rest of the barrage. Even the bones in their stomach seemed a near thing, as if they’d almost managed to dodge those, too. They were taking in deep, ragged breaths. They were still alive.

They had _that much health_.

A red liquid began to pool at Sans’ feet. Sans’ eyes trailed to the ground. Eyelights quickly darting across the thick substance. It was similar to the stuff that had fallen from his snapped femur.

“What’s that?” He asked gruffly.

The human didn’t respond –or couldn’t.

He grabbed their hanging head and roughly turned it to the side. Red liquid was pouring out of cuts on their skin.

“Why’re ‘ya leakin’?”

“I’m _bleeding,_ ” They corrected in a sharp, angry wheeze.

Bleeding? Where had he heard that phrase before? It pricked painfully at his mind. It didn’t matter. It was a distant thought. Monsters didn’t bleed. They crumbled. Dusted.

“Why’re ‘ya bleedin’?” He asked again, stressing the correct word.

With an irritated sigh, the human rolled their eyes, jerking their head out of his hold.

Sans could guess even if they weren’t going to help. The red bones were pinning the child to the door, but the natural gravity was trying to tug them to the floor. You weren’t supposed to move in a red attack. Their health was steadily depleting, but slowly. The red liquid growing ever larger at his feet.

Sans didn’t fully understand the phenomenon, but when he had bled –if that is what he had done- it had hurt. This wasn’t his human, but his human had laughed at his bad joke. His human liked jokes. Even though this lookalike hadn’t seemed to appreciate them; he didn’t like watching them leak all over the wall. It set an uneasy feeling in his soul. He could probably make this easier for them.

“Y-yeah?” He asked at their rejection, “Gonna be like that?” But they kept their head turned, not looking at him. “Whatever,” He grumbled. Studying the red at his feet. Small, crimson ripples lapping away from his worn sneakers. “Just be a good pest an’ hold still.” He formed another long red bone in his hand. If he could hit their soul, he could probably do more damage. “I’ll make this quick.”

He never thought he’d be choosing mercy. This is usually where he left them to whimper and suffer.

As his eyelights trailed back up towards the bleeding child, red smears splattered behind them, twisted in the bones, he noticed a silver edge. They were _still_ holding onto the knife. After all of that, they hadn’t given up –and fuck he was standing too close.

Sans leaned backwards, as the blade missed his neck by a near breadth. Silver tapping the vertebra on his throat as he fell away. The knife swished wildly across the door. Slashing through bone, hacking, shattering it, as the child tore themselves free with terrifying power. They landed on their feet lightly.

Normally, he would’ve accepted a loss like this. Normally, he would’ve just dusted. But he had to see Boss again. The scarred skull, the red cape, the rough voice, the black armor they’d spent countless nights making together. He had to know why his brother ever bothered to try to keep him alive. He wanted to know. He wanted to hope.

He stumbled away from the human as they approached -and they were _too close_. If he wanted to live, he had to take a shortcut _now._ Frantically, he looked for an exit, but no proper exit presented itself. He was lost. This place was unfamiliar. He didn’t know where to go. He just wanted to see Papyrus again.

The child grabbed onto his leather jacket, arm pulled back, taut to stab.

He shouldn’t take one; he didn’t know where he was going, but if he didn’t take one _now,_ he wouldn’t be alive to regret it later. He just wanted to see his brother. Sans’s worn sneakers edged backwards. He fell through a shortcut. The human, grasping onto his old jacket, came along for the ride.

Darkness engulfed them. The void whizzed by. They were spinning, speeding through the emptiness with no exit in sight. There was no gravity in the void, and Sans didn’t know which way he should pull his soul to actually get somewhere. He’d just thrown it in carelessly.

He felt little hands clawing at his winter coat, trying to hang on. Or maybe trying to get a better angle to stab him. He didn’t know. He couldn’t see them. He wrestled them in blackness. Limbs tangled together, trying to fend them off blindly. He pulled his soul this way and that, trying to shake them off. He had to get away. Had to get somewhere safe.

He felt their hands slip to the end of his jacket as he spun wildly; almost throwing the child to the void forever, when he saw the exit in front of them. He saw the tear in the void’s fabric like rays of light shining through a cloth. The closer they got, the clearer their destination became.

He could see the fake Papyrus lying on his back on the red stained carpet. Sprawled on the blue floor in his big, orange hoodie staring blankly at the ceiling of his brother’s room. Eyes vacant. Hollow. Lifeless. He looked like he was never going to move again.

They crashed through the shortcut in the ceiling rapidly. Sans was the first one through, his jacket being tugged up behind him by his passenger. He dropped the full length from the ceiling on top of Papyrus, but he knew better than to stop. They couldn’t stay still. He curled his limbs around Papyrus’ torso, squeezing him close, burying his head in the orange hoodie, and rolled them both to the side. A knife thudded into the floor behind them, piercing Sans’ trailing coat.

Another narrow miss.

The human wobbled to their feet. A few giggles bubbling from their lips. They stepped on the blade, sinking it further through the carpet and into the floorboards casually. They pulled something from their inventory and popped it into their mouth. Their health returned to full.

Panting, Sans clambered onto his elbows, leaving a few inches between him and Papyrus; Sans looming over the larger skeleton. He searched the familiar face, the strong chin and sharp cheekbones he knew so well. Soul pounding against his ribs frantically. This fake was a damn good one. He was concerned about the hollow eyes, until he saw startled, little pinpricks in the other’s sockets. Despite himself, Sans smiled. He was alive! The void hadn’t taken him.

“sa-“ the other started.

There was a creak on the floorboards and Sans tore his eyes away to look to the right. The human was approaching and they didn’t have a lot of ground to cover. Maybe only two steps. Sans couldn’t get away easily, he was pinned to the floor now by his coat, leather awkwardly bunched up around his arms. But Papyrus, who’d suddenly been thrown amidst their battle, could still get away. Sans grabbed his soul and threw him out from under him, into the far wall, away from the child.

A thud resounded to the far side. Objects clattering to the ground.

With a heavy foot, the kid kicked Sans square in the jaw.

They kicked hard for such a little thing. His skull was throbbing. Like it had been split in more places than just the scar that usually adorned it.

“Don’t run away,” they said, all smiles and cheer. “We just started playing.” They pressed down on his skull for a few seconds, like they might decide to stomp through it, until they let up on the pressure. The bottom of their shoe scraping across his skull as they left him. Maybe changing their mind?

They sauntered back over to their knife. Dislodging it from the floor with ease. They made sure to curl their arm in a fistful of Sans’ jacket first, though. They tugged him back closer towards them, once he was free. His phalanges dug into the blue carpet, but couldn’t find a hold on the fluffy rug.

Realizing he wasn’t going to get away, Sans rolled back over, staring up at the human looming above him. Their shadow creeping across his form. “Though, I am getting a bit bored.” They flipped their hold on the knife easily; a position that was better for stabbing.

Sans seized their soul and threw them up into the roof harshly. The human dug into his red sweater, pulling him along for the ride. They both slammed into the ceiling, but Sans used them as cushioning.

Sans threw them to the side wall, but they hooked a leg around his knee, spinning them around as they both crashed into the wall. Sans hit the surface first this time, taking the brunt of the blow. The knife lodging, with force, into the plaster next to his head.

The skeleton fought to untangle them, flicking their soul wildly around the room to keep them disoriented. If he let them stay still, he knew they’d be able to aim that knife easily. They crashed through the table with the action figures. Sans struggling with the human’s arm, to prevent them from slashing out at him. They smacked the ceiling and floor several times, the human laughing the whole way, before they smashed into the bookcase; where novels, paperbacks, and hardcovers rained down upon them.

The kid shoved Sans away, knocking him into the mess on the floor. Sans summoned a bone in his hand. His practiced phalanges curling around the familiar weight. The child lept on top of him, blade aimed down to pierce his soul. He blocked with the bone. It diverted the blade, but his weapon snapped in two with a loud crack. Leaving him with only half of a bone, but also a sharp edge.

Sans kicked with his leg, sinking into their stomach. Knocking them off their stance. He rolled on top of them, pinning the small form with his weight. Bone shard raised, poised to strike. His other hand pinning the child’s hand to the side. He could kill them, or at least pierce the soul. Arm raised, weapon ready; his grip tightened around the tiny wrist in his fist.

A faint memory of a little hand absently curling around his fingers tugged his mind. His eyelights sputtered out.

The bone attack rattled in his hand as his arm shook. He just had to stab down and-

A little hand swishing his own to a too cheerful beat. A soft hum singing at his side.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. His hand wanted to bring the blow down, but his brain wouldn’t let him.

The human laughed under him. “Can’t do it, can you?” They asked in their shadowy, jovial voice. He couldn’t answer. They ripped their hand free of his. “That’s why you’re weak.”

Instantly, he was yanked off the human. A knife lightly grazing the vertebrae on his neck, as he was thrown out of the human’s reach by a gravity that wasn’t his own. The air whizzing by. Sans tensed for the impact into the wall he knew was coming. Yet… it never came.

Instead, his back slammed into a thin, vertical padding. He felt arms wrap around his middle, underneath his arms. The foreign magic let go of his soul and he slumped into the embrace. Half slipping out of the constricting hold.

“get out…” a low rumble commanded. There was something dark and sinister in that voice as it pierced the air that promised the worst end to anyone who dared disobey it. Sans knew this voice well. So well. He could feel the sweat dripping down his brow. He was trapped in these arms. The little skeleton craned his head up to look behind himself, at Boss.

The tall skeleton’s face was set in a tight grimace. One orange eye blazing beneath that stony look. Bloodthirst radiating off of him in waves. A visage of impending death. This was Boss, wasn’t it? He’d been given a command. He had to get out! Arms tightened around Sans’ chest. He wanted to panic, he was on the verge of panic, but he was too afraid to move. If Boss was squeezing him this hard, maybe he didn’t want him to move. He didn’t know what to do. Sans locked up. He started to shut down.

He didn’t realize Papyrus wasn’t speaking to him.

The human laughed at the request. Nimbly, they pushed themselves up from the floor, prancing light on their feet. They flipped the hold on their knife casually, turning to regard the two skeletons.

“i said get out.” The command wasn’t any less terrifying the second time.

The child smiled. “Make me,” they purred eagerly.

No sooner had the words left their lips that the child was flung from the room. A violent flick of the large skeleton’s arm and they went clean through the wall, wallpaper and plaster fluttering behind them. Gravity induced distance flinging them well past the backyard. Sans tried to watch their descent, but he lost sight of them against the daylight. His eyes focused back on the long finger bones stretched before him.

He couldn’t believe what he’d just saw.

Then, it was just Sans and Papyrus in the room.

Slowly, the skeleton’s hand, who maybe actually was Boss, but definitely wasn’t, re-wrapped around Sans’ thick middle. A long moment passed, before Sans was lowered to the floor. Papyrus sank to his knees behind the little skeleton. Roughly, Sans was spun around to face the other, large hands digging desperately into Sans’ shoulder blades. Reluctantly, he was forced to look into Papyrus’ angry, lost, orange eyes.

“why didn’t you kill them?” He shouted desperately. His voice was loud. Pained.

Sans didn’t really know. His jaw quivered, trying to find the right words. Pupils fervently searching Papyrus’ for the right answer. The answer he wanted to hear.

He couldn’t find one.

Papyrus’ grip loosened on his shoulders. He slumped further onto his knees. His head fell into one of his hands, the other slipping to grip around Sans’ coat sleeve.

“why were you with the human?” The hand on his sleeve was trembling.

Sans didn’t think there was a right answer this time. He stayed silent.

With a heavy sigh, Papyrus ran his hand down his skull. “sans,” he called uncertainly, like he wasn’t entirely sure it was the right name to be using, but Sans understood. He was talking to _Sans_ now and not a replacement for his brother. His head rose to look at the little skeleton in front of him.

Sans was rigid before him. Nervously, his eyes locked onto Bo-no-Papyrus’ with uncertainty.

“listen to me,” his hands cupped Sans’ skull, but not in the rough manner Sans flinched for. Gently, simply holding his head still. “don’t ever go near the human, alright? for any reason,” He stressed. The hands were lightly shaking against his bone. He held Sans’ gaze for a few moments. Locked still, Sans couldn’t tear his eyes away even after the hands slipped away from his face. “just... stay here,” He said motioning with boney hands to lay low. “I’ll take care of this.” He smiled half-heartedly at Sans, his brow pinching in a worried, yet relieved manner, the bags beneath his eyes so prominent, before he stood up and stepped into a shortcut. Vanishing.

Sans was alone in the room. The smashed room. There were dozens of new holes, chips and cracks in the ceiling and floors. Messy piles of toys and books were strewn hazardously around the floor. There was a gaping, human-sized hole in the wall next to the window. The ceiling creaked softly as little, pebble-sized rubble trickled down from the ceiling.

Take care of it?

_Take care of it?_

Sans started breathing again because apparently he’d stopped that at some point, but his breaths didn’t come in relieved, steady rhythms. No, no. His chest heaved with panicked gasps.

What did he mean, ‘take care of it?’ Sans had seen it. He’d glanced at it when Papyrus had entered the battle. Spied it as the skeleton had stretched his hand out, launching the kid through the wall. He’d thought it was a mistake. A glitch.

Level One.

That _bonehead_ was level fucking _one._ How was that even possible? That meant the guy had never hurt another living thing in his entire life! In all the years he’d been alive; he’d never once harmed something. How exactly was he going to “take care” of a knife wielding maniac who was oozing LoV out their fucking eyeballs?! He was way over his head! Next to that much experience, he was nothing! A kid! A brat! Playing a game he wasn’t ready for. He’d get himself killed and-

And…

That was exactly what that _bonehead_ wanted, wasn’t it?

He was alone. His brother was dead. Everyone was dead! Except for him, some homicidal child, and a stranger who looked so much like his dead brother; he’d mistaken him for them.

Stay here?

‘Just… Stay here and let me die?’

Sans could understand the sentiment. He didn’t really want to be alone with some lookalike of his brother either.

He wanted the real thing.

But he’d seen a glimpse of it, hadn’t he? He’d seen it in this Papyrus as he’d stood tall, hand out-stretched, stern-faced, fire crackling behind his socket, while he clutched Sans into him.

Could he really stand by and watch some psychopath cut down a harmless, lonely, baby version of his brother? He could see the strong chin and sharp cheekbones billowing away into dust. He could feel the large bones crumbling in his hands.

He couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t.

A feral snarl ripped from his throat. He was so pissed.

“Take care of it, my ass!” He grumbled to no one.

He hopped through the hole in the broken wall into the snow. There were loud cracks of wood in the distance as the distant pines shook above the tree-line. Papyrus wouldn’t take care of it. He’d let himself get killed.

He stalked towards the distant battle.

Sans would take care of it. Sans knew how to take care of it. Sans had known a level one Papyrus before. He had loved his baby brother. Sans knew well the kind of monster that preyed on that innocence and he had _taken care of it._

His greatest regret in life was ever putting his innocent, little brother in a position where he had to take care of monsters like that. He wouldn’t watch it repeat.

Sans could do this. Papyrus – _that Papyrus_ \- couldn’t.

Sans stormed through the back woods, seething. Batting away branches and shrubbery in his way. Eye crackling hot in his skull. Blistering heat wafting away from him.

He could see them in the clearing up ahead, the battle raging on. The human dashing in furiously, eagerly. Knife blazing out attacks. Snow kicked up behind them wherever they charged. Blow after blow after blow Papyrus dodged, fire trailing from his eye. He looked fierce, but that was the extent of his ferocity. He fought sloppily, lazily. He wasn’t even trying, the suicidal bastard, but neither was the human. They were toying with him. Playing. Getting their fun before they threw him away forever.

“Papyrus!” Sans shouted, barreling into the clearing.

Papyrus turned around, startled, to see Sans, eye blazing, brow sweating, coat billowing out behind him, as he stormed into the battle. The lanky skeleton barely dodged the human’s next swing as they charged in close. He blipped far away to the side, but his attention wasn’t on the human. His eyes were locked in a terrified manner on Sans as he neared the battle. “no. don’t! stay back!”

Sans felt his soul still as magic flooded through it. He was thrown back out of the clearing. Launched into the air with gravity. Flung, like he’d been flicked away. He landed in the snow further back in the woods.

That asshole!

Sans wasn’t deterred. He flailed in the snow pile onto his feet and barreled back through the trees into the clearing. Papyrus looked tired. The weariness was readable in his stance even from the distance Sans was at. Papyrus’s summoned bones were spinning in the air around him. An orange fire crackling within his socket; lighting the dark shadows and blue-tinted snow with heat. He shot the attacks at the human one by one, erratically. Unpredictably.

The fucking numbskull. It didn’t matter if you kept up an unpredictable attack if the human could just watch each one as they approached! It was much better to launch bones through the ground where they couldn’t see them coming. You used visible attacks for feints!

The child dodged all of the bones easily. Some of them thudding viciously into the stay pines. Shuttering snow down from above. A victorious giggle bursting from their permanent smile in mirth. They cleared the distance between themselves and their target quickly.  They readied their knife about to land the blow.

Sans grabbed Papyrus’ soul and skidded him to the side, out of the attack. Papyrus’ head spun back around to face the skeleton panting at the edge of the woods.

_‘No, idiot, don’t look at_ me! _’_

Sans was rewarded with his soul being flung back into the trees again. He slipped across the slick ice, clawing his hands into the freezing, white powder beneath him to stop himself. The little skeleton pushed himself up onto all fours out of the snow, shaking his whole body like an animal as snow fell free from his furred coat. He growled, looking back up at the clearing. He sprinted back towards it.

The human had closed in on their prey, no longer fighting him from a distance, laughing as they neared. Papyrus either wouldn’t or couldn’t teleport away from the child, as they danced in the winter scene. Spinning this way and that as the lanky skeleton dodged the speeding blade.

They turned and Papyrus spotted Sans as he stomped back into the clearing, fuming. His blazing orange eye shot a quick glance up at Sans away from the human.

“Pap-“ Sans started to growl.

A heavy gravity fell upon him, tugging his soul into the ground. The little skeleton fell face-first into the snow, but the gravity didn’t lift. It held him down. Sans struggled in the ice. He flipped himself over, soul weighing heavy in his chest, as he leaned his head back in the snow; watching the battle he couldn’t join take place before him.

The child slashed out. Papyrus dodged.

 In the short time he was in the void, the human shifted. Guessing where he’d reappear. They swung again. Papyrus vanished.

The human shifted again, a smile playing at their lips. Papyrus reappeared, barely dodging the next knife. The human was leading him now.

The tall skeleton took another shortcut.

“Bonehead!” He hissed under his breath, struggling in the snow. “They’re onta ‘ya!” He called out his unheeded warning into the chill air, but a weight still held his soul down.

Papyrus reappeared and a knife met him. He dodged again, narrowly. He disappeared.

That idiot! The amateur was paying too much attention to the knife.

He reappeared, dodging the knife.

The human kicked him.

Fuck. _He’d_ taught them that one. Clever little shit.

Papyrus stumbled into the snow. You had to move to take a shortcut. He was wide open. They had him now. They knew they had him now and it wouldn’t be interesting if they knew how to win the game. It wouldn’t be _fun._

The human stalked forward, laughing. Their smile deforming in that wicked way. Knife raised. Taut. Ready to kill.

Sans couldn’t – _wouldn’t_ \- watch anyone with his little brother’s face crumble to dust in front of him. Struggling to his feet, he took the fastest way he knew how to Papyrus’ side.

Sans blipped out of the shortcut right in front of the knife. The dagger descended upon him. He grit his teeth. The razor cut across his torso, snapping every rib it hit across the way with a sickening crunch. The sound snapping through the trees. Red liquid bloomed across his chest.

“sans!” Papyrus cried behind him.

The child’s red eyes glanced back at Papyrus. Their smile seemed to widen upon seeing his face. Sans bet his face looked pretty awful. Papyrus had been such a crybaby when he was a kid.

“Whoops~” The child cooed unapologetically. “Guess I killed him twice.” They looked down at Sans, struggling to stand, trying to hold his snapped ribs in place. “I guess you’re just having a bad day.”

 “S-sorry, kiddo,” he choked out. He caught the kid’s hand, trying to use it as leverage to stand. His hand trembled around their wrist. “But I’m having a  g r e a t   t i m e.” One red eye flared to life in his left socket. He kept turning the little wrist in his until he heard their own bone snap. The knife clattered into the snow. His grin widened on his skull; he was finally back in the battle.

“don’t!” Papyrus’ shaking voice cried behind him. He could feel those large hands grabbing at his back, trying to pull him away. Sans wouldn’t let him interfere. He clearly didn’t know how to deal with monsters like these. With gravity magic, he pushed this innocent version of his brother far away. He kept his eyes locked onto the kid, but he could hear that Papyrus skidding to a stop in the snow somewhere far behind him. Safe behind him.

The bonehead, he was the one who shouldn’t be near the human.

“Why’d ‘ya leave, kiddo? Thought we were playin’?” He said sarcastically, grin set on his face. “Why don’t you come play with me?” They looked shocked, glancing him up and down with disbelief. He pulled the kid roughly towards him. They fought against his grip, but they couldn’t get away in the slick snow. They skidded towards him. “I got a game you’ll just _LoV_ ,” he said tauntingly, sockets dead.

They didn’t appreciate the pun.

He turned and tugged them through a shortcut.

They stepped into the boiling heat of Hotland, in front of The Core, where this had all started. He shouldn’t have ever gotten Papyrus involved. He should have just rotted in the void somewhere. If he had known Papyrus was level one, he would’ve skipped the exit altogether and they could have both spun, lost in the void forever. Salvation be damned.

No wonder that Papyrus had seemed to love his Sans so much. _His brother_ had never allowed Papyrus to stoop so low as to kill; to dirty his own hands. His Sans had protected him from all of that.

It was his own fault Boss was the way he was –and he knew it. He’d been too weak to prevent Papyrus from having to fight for himself. He hadn’t been strong enough and Papyrus had had to defend himself. Boss had done what he’d had to. It was Sans’ fault that his little brother was gone.

And what happened? Sans had been in this universe for one fuckin’ day and this miraculously harmless Papyrus had launched a child through a plaster wall and tried, miserably, to fight the devil to the death.

He had it all wrong.

It wasn’t Papyrus who should have been protecting Sans. It was Sans who was supposed to protect Papyrus.

In this universe, Sans had gotten it right, hadn’t he? His brother was grown and sitting at level god-damn one!

And this kid had dared!

He threw them forward onto the searing pipes of the bridge.

To their credit, they didn’t scream.

“The game’s called,” and he thought for a second, rubbing his hands together, ignoring the splintering pain in his ribs. Running his tongue over his fangs. Without warning, several bones shot up through the piping impaling the child straight through the soul, arm, and leg. Hollow, metallic clangs resounding in the chamber as the bones burst from the pipes. They were pinned now. Helpless with a red attack sitting through their soul. “ _Poker_ ,” he decided.

He walked closer, heavy footsteps clanking across the metal as he loomed over them. He dipped into his failing magic reserves again. Two more bones shot through their stomach. Their face grimaced in pain. “What?” He asked, raising one arm up in a nonchalant shrug, sending a sting across his ribs. “No laugh? You might not think it’s funny, but I sure will,” He growled, clutching his broken chest.

Red was seeping through his sweater. His vision was starting to waver. He didn’t know how much further he could go, but he was determined to take care of this before he dusted. He felt like he was going to fall, but he planted his feet wide.

“How are you still alive?” The human asked incredulously. The real question was how were they still talking. He shot three more bones through them. This time, they did scream. Briefly.

“I told ‘ya,” He wheezed out with a guttural tone, “I’m having a great time!” He allowed several more bones to pierce the kid. Harsh, metallic clangs echoing with each forced punch through the pipes. Boiling steam rising from the fissures. The striped shirt was tattered.

His breaths were getting ragged. He considered releasing the bones pinning the child to fling them into the lava, but he didn’t want to risk them pulling some crazy stunt like last time. The way his vision was swimming; he wouldn’t be able to catch them a second time.

They were wheezing like him now. Blood dripping through the piping to the hiss of the lava below. Their health was getting low. They seemed a lot less dangerous in this position, pinned helplessly to the blistering pipes without their weapon. As if they’d been defanged. Declawed. They were just a dying kid now.

When, the next bone shot through their other leg; they started laughing.

Or maybe they were still just a homicidal maniac.

“What, kid, did I finally find your _funny bone_?”

“N-no,” they choked out. “One hit point,” the kid turned their head slowly to look at him. Their broken body shouldn’t have functioned that well. “You liar.”

“It ain’t lyin’. It’s called playin’ dirty.” It wasn’t lying. He was pretty sure he was going to dust any second now, but not until he was done with this. Two more bones punched through the metal without drawing a scream. He could make his magic last. “’Ya like games, don’t’ cha, kid?”

“I do,” They said, smiling, blood pouring out of their lips. Thirty two health left, but they couldn’t escape with the red bone through their soul. “Good move, comedian.”

Sans nodded now. He was getting tired. He was getting sluggish. He could barely stand. He was stiff, sockets dead. “Good play, too, ‘ya little horror. Saw what ’cha did. Did’ja copy me? Quick learnin’ lil’ shit.” Three more bones burst through the child. Fuck he was tired. Was his magic going to make it?

They laughed again. They seemed to laugh at everything but jokes. They reached a bloodied, shaky hand up towards him.

He sent another bone through their hand. Again; no scream. Maybe something that could pass as a contented giggle. Eight health left.

He couldn’t stand. He felt like he was going to fall, but he wouldn’t let himself. Red liquid poured from his slashed chest to sizzle into the pipes below. He wasn’t going to make it. “What’s ‘yer name, kid?”

“Chara.”

“Chara?” He summoned one more bone. It floated lazily at his side. “Tell ‘ya what, Chara. If you go play somewhere else, where I never see you again, I’ll let ‘ya live.”

 “Are you sparing me, comedian?” Another gurgling laugh. “This is why you’re weak.”

“Or we can play here,” He wheezed. Moving the bone to hover over their face. “The eyes are next,” He hissed full of malice, his gruff voice scathing. “I like this game, too.”

A smile stretched across their face. The steam rolled by for several seconds. He wasn’t sure if they’d caught his bluff. Or if the prospect of losing their eyes even bothered them in the slightest. Finally, they answered, “Deal.”

“Deal,” he agreed.

The bones in the child’s torso crumbled away. It felt good to not have his magic stretched so thin, but he wouldn’t be able to use it much longer. With the last of his strength, he flung their broken, torn body through the large, heavy, metal door at the end of the bridge. He slammed it shut behind them. He sent the last remaining bone through the keypad next to the door. The lights fizzled out across its surface; it was locked forever. He could hear soft laughter resounding from within.

So much for going to the Core.

There was a homicidal knife-wielding maniac in there now.

Sans stumbled forward, clutching his shattered ribs. He was _bleeding_ all over his arm. He fought to keep his shaking legs under him. He started stumbling from side to side. Dirty sneakers slipping across the pipes.

He hadn’t finished it, but at least he’d taken care of it. He needed to go tell Pap not to open the door.

Pap?

He chuckled at that. That was what he used to call his little brother before this whole “Boss” business. Back when he’d been harmless. Back when he was cute.

It fit him, didn’t it? Crying, throwing tantrums, moping around, getting himself into trouble like this. That dumb kid wasn’t going to last without him, was he?

He tried to take a shortcut back to him, but he should have known better. He was running on no magic. He stumbled into Waterfall again. He sneered at the unpleasant place. Not his intended target. He coughed up a thick bile of red liquid. He’d have to walk. So, he did.

Slowly shuffling along. Sneakers scraping the stone. His lonely shadow trailing across strange blue lit walls. Every minor shift burning his shattered chest that his hand couldn’t seem to hold together.

He wasn’t getting back to the bonehead, was he? Pity. He really wanted to know if that bizarre, level one Papyrus was more of a “Boss” or more of a “Pap”. Picturing Papyrus as a big, overgrown kid was a funny thought, but not an unpleasant one.

He chuckled watching the wet stone pass below him. One precarious step in front of the other, arms swaying limply at his sides, head down.

He could hear the voice of his imaginings call him. “sans? sans!” Or maybe the echo flowers were playing tricks on him again. It was hard to tell.

A red trail stained the floor behind him. A constant drip he couldn’t stop from bleeding from his chest.

“sans?” There it was again. So broken, so lost. Those flowers better be playing pranks on him or he had one fucked up imagination. Who would imagine their brother so miserable?

He thought he was managing the walk and delusions fairly well, until he slipped on his own slick blood and fell.

Long arms caught him.

  “sans…” Papyrus’ lost voice called and he knew that one was real. He couldn’t move his head to find the speaker, but he sunk into the soft cloth surrounding him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to look anyway. He didn’t want to see Papyrus’ sleepless, sad eyes set into a desperate face. Worried for him, of all people, for some unfathomable reason. He couldn’t stand it.

“Shut up,” he groaned out, mustering his strength. He couldn’t die in peace like this. Not with a tormented voice calling for him. “I ain’t dead. You better not cry on me this time.”

A relieved chuckle that doubled as a sob resounded in the chamber. Large hands hauled him off the floor. He was draped around the larger skeleton, feet out to the sides of the torso. His arms hung limply to his sides, head lying over the delusion’s shoulder to look behind them. Large arms securely pressed against his back. A sudden shift in space and they were in a living room that looked so much like Sans’ back home. Except the colors were bright, vibrantly so, and it seemed well lived in. Homely, even.

It was dark, the lights were off, but not like the void, not so much that Sans couldn’t see. The kitchen light was on and the dim glow spread into the living room, just enough for Sans to make out furniture in the faint space. There was an old television, a lumpy sofa, a cluttered end table in the corner, and a table next to the front door.

Papyrus carried Sans over to the sofa and set him down. The sofa wasn’t as lumpy as the one Sans’ remembered. It was nice. He swallowed down the red bile in his throat. The larger skeleton kneeled next to the couch in the dim light. Papyrus loomed over him to look into his eyes, probably to check to make sure he was still conscious. Sans tried to avoid meeting those concerned eyelights, but he caught the strained face anyway. It didn’t look very pleased with what it saw.

Unable to escape him, Sans gave a small, nervous smile at the skeleton in response. Sweat beading at his brow. His vision was starting to fluctuate in and out of focus for longer periods of time. Sans felt large hands pulling at his red stained sweater, trying to raise it up.

Sans’ hands shot up reflexively to push them away.

“i have to get to your ribs,” Papyrus said sternly, his voice was also full of worry, but he stopped pulling at Sans’ clothes, awaiting permission.

He really was, wasn’t he? He was a completely harmless Papyrus.

Tentatively, Sans lowered his hands away.

Papyrus pried his torn shirt away from sticky bones and glanced underneath. Sans saw him wince. “okay,” he said, swallowing roughly. “comere. up you go.” He slid one arm beneath Sans’ back, helping him into a sitting position on the sofa. It hurt to move. Sans leaned into the arm for support more than he wanted to.  The vertical position seemed to amplify his wheezing breaths. Carefully, Pap pulled off his coat.

“you’re a lot smaller without your coat,” Papyrus mumbled.

Sans shot him an irritated glance. He didn’t like being called small. But he looked away quickly. He didn’t like the concerned way Papyrus was looking him over. As if he wasn’t really happy with anything he saw. Sans kept his eyes forward so he wouldn’t have to see it again.

“shirt’s next,” he said, cautiously, as if he were afraid any sudden moves might make Sans scuttle away from him again, as if Sans were actually capable of moving right now.

“’Kay,” Sans confirmed, unable to meet his gaze.

He only slightly tensed when the slender fingers slipped under his shirt and, with only a minor struggle, managed to pull it free of Sans’ head. The rocking motion disoriented him, causing the little skeleton to sway. One of Sans’ hands gripped tightly onto the hoodie next to him to steady himself.

Sans’ broken and shattered ribcage was rising in tense, short heaves. His chipped bones were dripping with red liquid. His bones no longer white, all dyed a sick crimson. A visible, clean slice across his bones was painfully apparent. Every rib along the blade’s path was snapped. Splintered bone fraying out along the slices.

Papyrus gently wrapped his long fingers around one of the bones. His thumb rubbed little circles into Sans’ rib. The little skeleton sucked in a sharp breath between his fangs, eyes wincing. The thumb moved, inadvertently prodding the broken end.

Sans nearly doubled over. A whimper escaping his jaw. A big, poofy, orange sleeve caught him, before he could curl into himself. “okay, okay,” Pap drawled apologetically. Another arm wrapping around Sans’ back. “understood. i won’t touch it again. we’ll get you healed up,” Slowly, he eased Sans back onto the dull couch. A hand stroked Sans’ skull, wiping away the sweat on his brow.

“shh,” Papyrus soothed, “i’m not going to let anything happen to you,” yet his eyes, though lowered in a calming manner, were glancing over the damage apprehensively. His other hand rested above Sans’ sternum, testing the damage, but lightly. Carefully. Un-intrusively, unlike before.

Sans sank into the mildly lumpy cushions. Sleepily, his eyes drooped to half-lidded. Although he fought to stay awake, his vision started to fade. Sans relaxed into the gentle rhythm of the fingers along his forehead.

 

He was okay with this. He could die like this.

 

 

His sight slipped away from him. The world fell away. The soft, calming drawls of Papyrus’ voice faded into the distance. The darkness caught him. Held him. Seeping into his soul. Staining the little heart as it fluttered alone in the void. The soul trembled out the last few pulses of his magic.

 

 

 

 

A thin hand squeezed it.

 

 

A small yet brilliant light bloomed in the skeletal palm. A soft orange glow lit the creeping darkness. It chased away the closing shadows, illuminating Pap’s telltale features. The sharp cheekbones, the strong chin. His brow was knitted in worry, eyes half-lidded like he might give up hope any second now, sharp pupils staring into Sans’ empty sockets.

His soul pulsed. A thumb rubbed into it. Into _him._

He stuttered, exposed bones shivering slightly in the fresh air. Vivid, red eyelights blinking back into existence.

A smile curled into Pap’s face. “hey there,” he said, relief washed over every syllable. “thought i’d lost you for a second.”

Sans skull was throbbing, a dark haze thick in his mind. He was sapped of all strength, but he was vividly aware of the five skeletal bones around his soul, slowly undulating in small minute pressures to hold him still as his soul pounded wildly. It pulsed. Fingers cupped around it. It beat. A thumb tracing its surface.

He clenched his eyes against the touch, turning his head half into the sofa’s fabric beneath him. He clamped his fangs shut, riding out each pulse that pressed him further into those bones. Straining, he opened one eye to look at Papyrus.

He was crouched down next to the sofa, close to Sans, an orange under light illuminating him from below. His hand was clutched to his chest, the orange glow radiating from it. A stark red light held within his palm. It was Sans’ soul, nestled close to the larger skeleton’s chest.

He was using healing magic _on his soul._

It didn’t have the biting aftermath of pain that his leg had been subjected to when it was healed. This was warm. Pleasant. Intimate. And a blatant invasion of privacy Sans hadn’t thought possible before. His soul was not an object. His soul was the culmination of everything that made him who he was. His soul, essentially, _was_ him.

The skeletal thumb pressed into him, rubbing a swirling, soothing circle into its surface.

Sans exhaled sharply. Mind fuzzy. Panting breathily into the cushions below him. His fangs parted, a thin line of drool trickling down his chin. “D-don’t touch that,” He protested too quietly to hear. Too weak to raise his voice.

“hm?” Paps asked, snapping out of his relief, not quite catching the words. He leaned in closer to hear Sans; clutching the soul close to his chest as he moved.

Sans was held close, pressure squeezing him from all sides. Fingers enveloping him. Light pressing life into him. Warmth securely wrapping him within the safe confines of the long, slender bones. Rubbing him into the orange hoodie. The thumb, perhaps as an absent habit, swirling deeply into his being in steady, constant circles.

“Mmn!” Sans tried to bite off the moan into Papyrus’ ear. “I said, d-don’t touch that!” He gasped out his growl. Trying to glare at Papyrus, but his eyelids fell heavily over his sockets. He stared up at the larger skeleton, eyes half-lidded, broken chest heaving, panting out needy gasps.

Papyrus’ brow shot up, realization setting in, but his lids remained drooped over his eye-lights. Perhaps his sockets just always had that sleepy slouch?

“oh,” he said stiffly, not betraying any emotion on his face, except for the small orange stain lighting his cheekbones. “i was just making sure you wouldn’t dust,” he defended, but quickly replaced the soul inside Sans’ shattered ribcage. The vibrant, red heart fluttered back into place.

“I don’t dust,” He mumbled out rhetorically, easing into the cushions below him now that his soul was safe from prying hands. A dark haze still pounding in his mind.

Trust him. He’d tried. He _didn’t_ dust.

“then, i’m glad you’re awake,” Paps corrected, carrying the conversation. “i thought you were going to shatter.” He looked down at Sans’ broken ribcage. “you’re still in a bad condition,” He noted. “i’m going to touch your ribs now, okay?”

Sans swallowed, but he knew he couldn’t leave his ribs as is. He nodded timidly, mind still hazy. Breath still short.

Large hands fell to his sternum, spreading across his chest as Papyrus went to work. Warmth spread across Sans’ chest wherever his fingertips traced. Followed shortly after, by a searing hot pain as it shot through his marrow. The bones beginning to re-form, agonizingly slowly.

Sans shot up in a wince, but a gentle hand on his forehead eased him back into the cushions.

“what were you thinking?” Pap asked crossly, but his hands were stroking the little skeleton’s skull kindly. Sans fought the haze to catch the words. He tried to listen to the familiar voice. Tried to focus in on the low, lazy drawl. It was ridiculous to be scolded in such an agreeable manner. A smile set on Sans’ grin. “you could have died. why won’t you listen?”

 “B-because your not my bo- _boss_!” Sans laughed out between wheezes. Papyrus didn’t seem to understand why that was so funny, but Sans laughed at it anyway. Each labored chuckle shaking his ribcage greatly, making it hard for Papyrus to work.

He fixed Sans with a frustrated, yet bemused face. His lazy eyes squinting at Sans. “at least you can still laugh,” he grumbled, shaking his head at the absurd notion. He waited for Sans to stop before he started working again.

“well,” Papyrus started again, determined to carry on the conversation; if only to keep Sans conscious. “i’m glad you think this is _humerus._ ” He said, trying to reform Sans’ demolished ribcage. His eyebrows twitching with mild irritation.

Sans’ chest heaved painfully with a chuckle.

“Don’t be so _sternum,”_ he countered. “It turned out fine, didn’t it?”

“ _tibia_ honest, i think you’re crazy.” He was smiling though. Papyrus was smiling at his dumb jokes! Papyrus was _telling_ him dumb jokes!

“Crazy’s in my _bones_ ,” Sans said, winking, grin wide.

Pap stopped to shake his head sadly at Sans’ stupid charade. He was smiling, though. A small curl to his blunted teeth. Teasingly, he asked, “what’s your name, Crazy-bones?”

That sucked the humor right out of Sans.

It knotted in his core uneasily. He swallowed roughly, but the bile seemed to catch in his throat.

How was he supposed to tell him that he was Sans? The dead Sans. He _was_ his brother. Just not the one he knew. Not the good, reliable Sans who had protected him all of this time. How was he supposed to tell Papyrus his great, magnificent brother was gone; and instead he got _Sans_ \- the eternal fuck up?

He went so quiet he stopped breathing.

Papyrus glanced over at his face, when he never answered. He moved to look into Sans’ eyes. His red pupils locked onto Pap’s orange ones with panic. The larger skeleton seemed to look him over, intelligent eyes studying him carefully behind low sockets.

 Despondently, he asked, “or are you just going to keep letting me call you ‘Sans’?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter: Sans can be scary.  
> But he’s got a soft spot for kids.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> Good golly gosh! I was having the hardest time figuring out where to end the monstrosity that was chapter 3, so I decided to split it here. More next time!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Mandatory Recap:  
> Pew, pew!  
> *Bad jokes*  
> Almost dies  
> *Bad jokes*  
> Asks a simple question?  
> *Panics*  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

He couldn’t bring himself to shatter the image this Papyrus had of a _good_ Sans. Couldn’t allow himself to trample over all the hard work of his other self who’d actually done something right.

“Name’s R-Red,” He blurted out, stuttering all over his words. There wasn’t any thought to the name; he’d just felt like he’d seen a lot of that color lately.

“Red, huh?” Papyrus asked skeptically. Sans couldn’t blame him, the name sounded fake even to him. But it was his name now and Pap didn’t seem like he was going to debate it, even if he did seem aware it was a fake name. Those intelligent eyes studied his face. Recognition clear in the pupils as they strayed over his bones. Locking onto Sans’ eyes.

Sans – no- Red could only give a small, nervous smile in response.

Pap’s eyes glanced off to the side. The lengthy form leaning away from him, his eyelights slowly dimming to a fraction of their intensity. “well, _Red_ ,” He said stressing the name. “you look an awful lot like someone I know.” Emotion was a bit thick in his voice as he swallowed. Yet he looked vacant, like he was somewhere far away.

Now that Sans thought of it, Pap had fought a battle, too, and now he was using quite a bit of healing magic on him. He wouldn’t be surprised if the skeleton’s magic reserves were dipping low –and that was dangerous.

 “’Y-Yer brother?” He asked keeping a forced smile. Trying to keep Papyrus’ attention. Trying to talk to him like he had talked to Red to keep him conscious.

“yeah,” Pap swallowed,“i’m sorry for mistaking you for him before.” His voice was quiet. Regretful.

Red wasn’t good with these awkward sorts of conversations. “N-no,” he mumbled looking down to the side. “’S-so’kay.” He _was_ Sans, after all. Papyrus didn’t have to feel _that_ bad about mistaking him for him. Silence started to creep in, but Red tried to fight it. He tried to keep the talk going, “Not a l-lot of skeletons around, anyway.”

“hm,” Papyrus hummed absently in agreement. His eyes dimming as he receded into his own thoughts. His hands came back up to Red’s chest. The light blooming beneath his palms once again, but Sans could swear it was dimmer. The sting of the healing a little lesser.

“’Ya know, y-you don’t really have ’ta do that,” Red offered, gritting against the dull pain.

“no, i will,” Papyrus was set in his ways. His motions robotically carrying out the required movements. His sockets vacant. Boney fingers tracing the small ribcage.

Red watched him anxiously. He couldn’t let him hurt himself just because Red had been reckless. Pap wasn’t supposed to suffer just because Sans had done something stupid like jump in front of a knife. He had to keep him conscious, but how could he catch his attention?

“Y-y-you said your brother liked to cook?” Red spluttered out. Nothing else came to mind when it came to subjects that might catch Papyrus’ attention.

His eyelights faded back in a bit. They were dim, but they were there.

“yeah, he liked to cook tacos,” Pap answered.

“Tacos, huh?” That was a strange thing to be set on cooking. “Why tacos?”

“it was a recipe his friend gave him,” Paps continued, teeth curled into a small smile, as he drawled on hazily. “he said he was going to master the recipe. make the best tacos in the world ‘n all that.”

Red smiled because Pap smiled. He could remember the way Papyrus had spoken fondly of him before. “D-Didn’t you say he was a bad cook?”

Paps laughed in a soft chuckle, maybe only slightly swaying in his seat, “god, they were awful. but he was so set on cooking them everyday. he wanted to get into the Royal Guard.” The hands were mechanically passing over Red’s ribcage. Still moving, not still.

Sans eyes grew big. “Y-your brother was going to get into the Royal Guard?” He hoped the prying, needy tone he felt in his own voice wasn’t’ apparent to Papyrus. It was pretty amazing. Perhaps, technically, Sans had worked for the guard, too, as a sentry, but he wasn’t quite an official member.

“yeah, he was training to get in,” Papyrus’ smile was larger, eyes distant. Probably too far away to notice Sans’ snooping.

Red could remember the day Boss had gotten into the guard. He could remember his brother’s ecstatic smile. Boss had been so happy and Sans had been so proud; like if his chest had burst in that moment it wouldn’t have made the day any less perfect. That same pride was clear in Paps’ glazed eyes as the dimming orange glow flitted across it.

He noted how Papyrus’ hands were shaking as they touched his bones. Yet all he could do was mouth the echo, “He was training?”

“he’d go to train with the Captain for the day. he’d come back so happy every time.”

Red was trying to imagine it. Going to train with the Captain of the Guard everyday. Doing well enough that he came back smiling. Making Papyrus proud of him. _Being_ happy.

“sometimes he’d come back and try to show me what he’d learned,” Paps continued, a faint laugh upon his voice. Sweat beading on his brow. The glaze still a bit heavy in his eyes. “this one time, i was walking back from Muffet’s and he just tackled me into the snow. he proclaimed it was the ‘magnificent hug of death!’ right out in the middle of the street. i hit the snow so hard i thought he broke my back.”

Red chuckled steadily along with Pap. He was trying to imagine it. Trying to imagine tackling Boss from behind while screaming something stupid.

He couldn’t.

“H-he sure sounds like somethin’,” Red egged on, hungry for another peek into this life.

“yeah.” Paps eyelights seemed to be a bit brighter, even if he didn’t look very sturdy on his bones right now. “this other time,” he went on.

Red felt transfixed as he spoke.

A lazy smile stretched across the fading skeleton’s face. “i was late for work and he ran me all the way out to my station. just picked me up and ran out the door. i’m like twice his size,” he snickered.

“Heh,” Red smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He couldn’t pick Boss up even if he wanted to. Probably couldn’t even if he had to. If he ever had to get them both somewhere he just took a shortcut there. It was simple. Easy.

Papyrus seemed a bit unsteady, but Sans was soaking in the stories. Drinking in a glimpse of what this universe used to be. So, he pressed on.

“Y-your bro sounds pretty amazing.”

“yeah, he,” and the light seemed to die on Papyrus’ face. Stolen by realities and harsh reminders. “…he was,” he concluded in past tense.

Shit.

The light at his chest seemed to come to a sudden halt as the room went dark. The small candle of life that had been in Papyrus, blown away. The shadows that had been held back by the glow rushed to fill the space.

Red didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to recover the conversation. Nor did he have anything to offer Papyrus to make him feel any better. He was still trying to piece together this puzzle of life he’d heard about in this universe. Where Papyrus was level one and Sans was training for the Royal Guard. Where he was strong enough to pick up a monster twice his size. Where he had a friend, who’d given him a recipe about tacos. It was random and ridiculous and foreign. But he could glean one thing from all this information. No matter what odd thing Papyrus had said; he’d spoken fondly.

Papyrus had loved this place dearly.

 In Sans’ whole life, he’d barely had anything and, when he’d lost it, it hit like a rock. Papyrus had had everything and, when he’d lost it, he was crushed by the weight.

My little brother hugged me once. I was so happy.

My little brother hugged me everyday. We were happy.

It didn’t even compare. Sans didn’t want to compare. Words couldn’t fix this. Red couldn’t fix this. Red couldn’t be Sans. He didn’t even come close.

But Papyrus was broken in front of him. Slouched, head hung, sockets empty. Motionless.

So, Red shuffled his elbows beneath him and reached a shaky hand out towards the desolate skeleton. Cautiously, as if the other were as fragile as he seemed. Before he could touch them, though, -before he could pretend there might actually be some encouragement he could provide- suddenly, like a marionette with its strings cut, Papyrus slumped and fell over.

Red caught him quickly.

He was heavy. Limp in his little arms that could barely hold him up. Red struggled to pull the other skeleton half over him onto the sofa, so that he wouldn’t hit the floor. He balanced the larger skeleton awkwardly across his lap.

“H-hey, P-Pap?” he called apprehensively.

He didn’t get a response.

“Papyrus?” He tried again, but no answer came.

“Pap?” An edge of worry spiking through his voice.

Just lingering silence met him.

Fuck, no. He was afraid to press down on the other sprawled across him for fear his bones may actually crumble away. No. He should have stopped him from using so much magic! He shouldn’t have sated his own curiosity about this world and actually stopped him. He knew Paps was on the edge. Why did he? For fuck’s sake, he’d –no, no- he might’ve kil-

The spine below his hand rose in a gentle rhythm. The ribcage rising as a breath filled it.

He was just asleep. He’d used up his magic and fallen unconscious.

Red sunk into the cushions, holding Pap’s torso so he wouldn’t fall. A relieved sigh parting his fangs. “Don’t do that to me, Bonehead.” But two thick chuckles bubbled out of his throat in a nervous habit to fill the closing silence. Clutching the other to him as the darkness tried to creep in. A heavy weight pressing down on his newly formed chest.

He took a brief moment to calm himself down. Then, he carefully slid himself out from under Pap. Avoiding any sudden moves that might wake the sleeping monster. Once freed, he set to work trying to haul the larger skeleton onto the sofa. It took him several tries to succeed. Gently tugging, pulling, and re-arranging Papyrus’ limbs onto the lumpy couch.

Red grinned down at his handiwork. Maybe he couldn’t lift Papyrus up like this Sans could, but he could at least put his brother to bed.

 Pap was snoozing away on the cushions, face up, arms across his lap, long legs sprawled across the pillows.

But something was missing. As he peered around from where he stood, he couldn’t find what he was looking for. Seeing as how it wasn’t technically his house, he felt weird rummaging for one. Instead, he picked up his coat out of the discarded garments and draped it over the sleeping Papyrus like a blanket. It didn’t nearly cover the towering skeleton, and, sure, there was a hole in it from where the knife had stabbed through, but it would have to do.

Red was happy with the result, but the strain of lifting with sore bones had left him a bit tired himself. Even though the house looked eerily similar to his own home; lots of small key differences reminded him it was not. The vibrant wallpaper, more than two chairs at the kitchen table, and an apron that was hung next to the oven. The bludgeoning rock by the front door even had a note stuck to it that read, ‘Papy, you are not allowed to feed my pet!,’ in a clean, neat script.

As Red looked around, he just felt awkward and out of place. Shuffling his dirty sneakers skittishly on the unfamiliar floor as he looked around, the quiet seeping into the far corners of the room. He didn’t even bother going to inspect the bedrooms upstairs.

He slipped his torn, red sweater back over his head. Deciding to settle down on the carpet immediately next to the sofa. Even the carpet was somehow more comfortable than the one back home! As he stared up at the dim ceiling, he felt like that, too, was somehow off. Slowly, he curled up on the floor and drifted off to sleep, listening to the steady breaths rising from the couch above him.

 

 

_There was a loud, sickening crack and the world should have just fallen away from him there. It may as well have been the sound of his own soul breaking._

_“PAPYRUS!” Sans’ blood curdling scream echoed into the storm like a boom of thunder. The cry somehow piercing its way through the cutting winds._

_The little form of his brother fell unceremoniously into the snow at the larger monster’s feet, like a bird that had his wing clipped right out of the sky. The child wasn’t moving. There was a huge crack taken out of his socket. His skull was busted open._

_Sans struggled to claw himself through the snow towards his fallen brother._

_“Pap! PAP-!”_

 

 

Red opened his eyes some time later. There was still a thick silence in the air, just as he’d left it when he’d gone to sleep. With the lack of any immediate presence as to why he’d woken up at all, he rolled over, onto his back, to doze back off again. Something tickled his face. Groggily he opened his eyes, but he couldn’t find anything amiss. It wasn’t until he was about to close them again that he realized what was wrong.

The soft fur from the rim of his leather coat was tickling his face.

His jacket was on top of him, which was not where he’d left it.

Red’s eyes shot awake, alert now, as he looked around. He was lying on the floor, as he was, in the unfamiliar copy of his living room. Above him was an orange-clad skeleton, sitting on the floor next to Red, slumped into the couch behind him. Not where he’d left him. He was so close, Sans’ head was almost touching his leg.

Red shot up like a springboard. Back facing Papyrus now. Eyes locked straight and unwavering. “Sorry,” he apologized hastily for their proximity, sitting rigidly stiff.

When no retaliation came, Red eased his stiff posture a bit. He looked down, lifting the old winter coat off of his lap a bit. If it was here, that had meant Papyrus had moved it.

He felt a little sting realizing his coat had been rejected. Which was understandable, it was hardly the correct size, it was sporting an obvious hole, it was old and a little dinged up, and, in the better lighting, it may have even still been a bit bloody. No wonder he hadn’t wanted it on him. “S-sorry,” he mumbled again dejectedly, sinking the tattered coat back into his lap.

No response came.

So, Red turned around, to peer over his shoulder at Papyrus.

He was ghostly still, sitting against the couch. His head hung low, arms upturned out to his sides. A vacant look that reminded Red of when he’d seen him through the shortcut’s exit. Lost. Hopeless. Lifeless. Like he may never move again.

“Pap?” He asked, crawling back his way tentatively.

No response.

“Papyrus?” He called again, waving his hand in front of the other’s face.

He didn’t even flinch. Or indicate any recognition at all.

Shit. Had he gone unconscious again? Was his magic still out? But if he was off the sofa he had moved, hadn’t he? He’d even put the discarded coat back over Red. Or maybe he had moved and used up the last of his energy and shut down again?

Red inched closer to Papyrus, lowering his head to look into his face. Deep, blank sockets met him. His eyelights were out. Devoid of life. With a stormy night fresh in his mind, it made Sans feel uneasy.

“Y-you alright?” He asked, not truly expecting a response.

He didn’t receive one.

With a wry, hopeful smile, “’Ya l-look a bit _dead_ there, bud,” he added to the skeleton.

Still no reaction.

Red wrung his hands together nervously. He was starting to get a bit worried. Paps needed to replenish his magic. Perhaps he hadn’t slept? No, Red had heard him snoozing, but perhaps that wasn’t nearly enough?

 Then, he needed something to eat.

“H-hang on,” He mumbled to no one. He hopped up to his feet and sped into the kitchen, swinging open the refrigerator door. There were many sealed containers labelled in various outrageous titles, each including “taco” in the name, all written in a neat and orderly handwriting. But as Red shuffled through the containers, none of them were edible. All horribly outdated, many with mold or other mildew festering inside the lumpy, brown contents of the container. None of them would replenish a monster’s magic; they’d just make them sick. It was probably some sort of hazard to even have them in the house.

Red scrunched his face at the foul food. He abandoned the refrigerator to shift through the various counters around the kitchen. But as he knocked away pots, pans, and cooking utensils of a various nature; not one seemed to hold any food.

That was right. Hadn’t Pap tried to feed him snow before? He doubted they had anything in the house.

He darted back through the living room, snatching up his thick, winter coat from the ground. “W-wait here! I’ll be back!” The little skeleton shouted over his shoulder as he stepped out into the snow. He threw his coat on as the chill of the winter air bit into his bones. He jogged down Snowdin’s main street, coming to a stop at what was Grillby’s at his home.

The sign read “Muffet’s”. It didn’t have the stench of grease or the wear and tear of the old bar Red had once frequented. Peering inside the window, he could see tables and chairs arranged in the same fashion as Grillby’s, except the seats were upholstered, some of the tables covered with a lacey cloth.

Red tried the door. It was locked. He pulled even harder, but the door didn’t budge. He kicked it, knocking his worn sneakers against the pane sharply, but it just rattled on sturdy hinges. He searched for a shortcut inside, but he was too unfamiliar with the area to find one. The place was too different. He couldn’t take a shortcut somewhere he’d never been before. No matter how he tried to arrive inside the restaurant, he couldn’t find an entrance to its interior.

Red backed away from the building next. He tried summoning a bone to shoot through the window, but it fizzled away as soon as it appeared. He was running low on magic himself. The little skeleton tried two more times to get something solid to form, but the attempts only left him breathless, panting and tired. Each attempt crackling away seconds upon forming.

If he couldn’t get inside, he’d have to try outside.

So, Red went around to the little alleyway in the back, hoping it was somewhat similar to Grillby’s back home. He was relieved to see the large dumpster. The skeleton shuffled over to it, throwing open the wide, plastic top. He hauled a leg over the edge of the rusting metal, balancing himself on the ledge, to get a good angle at its insides. The metal was cool beneath him in the winter air. The sides slick with grime. He started shifting through the trash within the dumpster.

It was oddly nostalgic.

He hadn’t done this in years, but when Papyrus and Sans had been children, Sans had often rifled through abandoned trash that monsters had left behind to look for food, clothes, blankets, or anything that could be of use to them. Technically, most monsters dumpster-dived, just not in a physical dumpster. They did it in the actual Dump in Waterfall.

For the two children alone, it hadn’t always been the safest or best choice to go there, where other monsters might prey upon them. So, Sans had often left Papyrus alone in their little cave to see what he could swipe off of the leftovers in town. Before the inhabitants got around to their chores for the day and tossed their garbage over the abysmally deep ledge in Waterfall. Even monsters threw away some useful items sometimes.

It had been a good means of provisions –if not the most glamorous.

At least until he had found a means of making money. Which had possibly been even less glamorous than shifting through garbage, but it was a much more reliable source of income and food. Although, Papyrus hadn’t been very happy when he’d found out Sans had sold himself to acquire his dinner.

But those were things in the past, what mattered now was that _this_ Papyrus was in desperate need of food. Red spent hours looking for anything that could be edible, but the monsters of this universe either never threw away anything before it was actually bad or the trash in this dumpster was very old.

With a frustrated grunt, he abandoned any hope of finding food in the usually useful dumpster in the back-alley. Instead, he headed down towards the inn. He wanted to kick himself for falling into old habits and not going this way first.

The front door was hanging open. It rattled against the side of the building in the lone winds.

Red barged through the open doorway, stepping over a fuzzy welcome mat at the entrance. Skipping the front desk entirely to head into the back rooms on the first floor. The ones meant for the owners and not the guests. While the building seemed a bit different, the layout was much the same. Red had no problem winding through the hallways into the small kitchen at the back of the house.

As he entered the doorway, it was apparent the space had been ransacked already. Almost all of the kitchen cabinets hung open, silverware and other undesirable objects were flung around the counters in disarray.

The small skeleton tip-toed around the mess anyway, opening the refrigerator. As he riffled through cans and containers; the scene was pretty much the same as Pap’s house. Everything he found was obviously expired. Mildew and unpleasant smells clung in abundance to all the potential food. He checked every last one anyway, just to be safe.

He shouldn’t have bothered.

Next, he spent a long time shifting through all of the lower counters, despite most of their possessions being thrown to the dusty tile, there were still a few items inside of them. Sans spent a long time inspecting both the discarded objects on the room’s floor as well as the ones in the deep recesses of the cabinets on the off chance that something of worth hadn’t already been stolen.

The lower cabinets bore no fruit, except for the kind that was shapeless, fuzzy, and better left as a meal for the flies. So, Red climbed up onto the counters to dig through the upper cabinets. They had been pillaged as well, but there were significantly more objects hidden in the back of the upper cabinets, as if the thief hadn’t really been tall enough to reach them.

Red clawed his way around the back of the cabinets on the tips of his toes. Using the top of the fridge to climb even higher when available. All he found were unused pots and dusty knick-knacks stored away. He was about to give up and move onto another house when he pulled free a small unopened can. The front of it simply read “Soup”. While it was potentially expired, Red had no way of checking the date. However, it didn’t give off a hideous odor like the other things he’d found had.

Red sank from the counter, clutching his find tight between his fingertips. Eyes locked onto the single tin can. A smile spread across his fangs.

This would be plenty.

He left the Inn quickly, eager to get his prize back to Papyrus. He hadn’t planned on it taking him this long to find something to eat.

 He hoped Pap was still ok back at the house alone.

Low magic could be very dangerous. As the normal bodily magics regularly drained energy away, it could even sap away the monster into dust if left unchecked for a long period of time. Normally, low magic was a problem regularly corrected by eating a meal a day, but perhaps that type of regulation had become a bit …difficult in the current state of things.

The little skeleton found his way back to the cottage, the same as his own except the outside was adorned with lights and other meaningless little decorative baubles. He threw open the door only to be greeted by a thick unease hung in the air. The light in the living room was still off, the kitchen light still on where he’d left it. Pap was still slumped next to the couch where he’d left him.

“H-hey, Pap,” He called into the dim room, suddenly feeling nervous to be storming around like he owned the place. He shuffled over to the languid skeleton, checking him over. He didn’t see any apparent cracks or breaks on the few bones he could see outside the hoodie. Though the skull and hands weren’t much to go by.

“I got some food,” He held up the can in front of Papyrus’ lowered head so that he could see. Shaking the soup slightly back and forth to draw attention.

He didn’t receive a reaction. Nor any indication the skeleton was in there at all.

“I-I’ll go make this,” he informed, stepping away from the motionless monster.

Red made his way to the kitchen, helping himself to the required pot and bowl he’d need to cook the can. He set the burner on the oven, placing the pot over the fire. He was happy to find the soup wasn’t in some terrible state as he poured it into the pot. It actually smelled kind of nice. The little dings and shuffles he made were the only sounds echoing through the house. After several minutes, he had set a bowl for Papyrus opting not to dish himself any of the food.

He normally ate after Boss had eaten. Although the Pap in the living room wasn’t Boss, the same had held true for Sans when Papyrus had been a baby bones. He’d given him whatever he needed to grow big and had taken what was left over for himself.

And Sans was fine with that. Red was fine with that. He was hardly in any such a dire state as the other Papyrus was in –and _he_ was only in that state because it was Red’s fault. He’d tried to heal Red after he’d taken a knife to the chest. Cooking him a meal was the least he could do. Pap deserved the food.

So, Red took the soup back out to the living room. “I-It’s done,” He offered weakly, handing the bowl out towards the larger skeleton; a half smile rising on his teeth.

But, Pap made no move for the food.

Red held the bowl outstretched for him for a few long, awkward moments. Steam rising from the dish. When the other didn’t move, Red mumbled dismally, “I-I’ll just leave this here,” setting the bowl gently next to Papyrus on the floor.

He, then, stood off to the side, but just staring at the other waiting for him to eat didn’t feel like the right thing to do. There was a tense pressure to the air. As he fiddled off to the side, he wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to be in this room at all. So, in lieu of any proper direction, Red dismissed himself. “I’ll …I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

He climbed the wooden steps to the second floor. He was feeling tired after spending the whole day out rummaging for food, but he didn’t want to weird Papyrus out by sleeping down in the living room with him again. He felt this unnerving sense that Papyrus hadn’t liked that he’d slept on the floor near him before, that he didn’t want him in the same room with him now. So, he figured he should sleep elsewhere.

Red creaked open the door to his alternate’s room. It was a poor choice. He’d almost forgotten how smashed the place was. Snow was billowing in through a large hole next to the window, there were stab wounds in the walls, cracks and huge chips where the paint was peeling away set into the roof and walls where Sans had thrown them, books and toys littered the floor, casualties of battle.

Maybe he wouldn’t sleep in there. Slowly, he closed the door.

That just left Papyrus’ room.

Carefully, he made his way down to the door at the end of the hall, which was where his room was located back in his universe. He wasn’t sure if it was an invasion of privacy or not, but he got the feeling he wasn’t supposed to be in the same room as Papyrus, and he was running out of rooms in the house to retreat to. Cautiously, he opened the door, allowing it to swing away from him revealing the space.

Papyrus’ room reminded him much of his own. There was a bed on the floor with a messy set of sheets crumpled atop it, but unlike Sans’ measly, old, lumpy mattress; Papyrus had several frameless mattresses stacked atop each other to form his bed. None seemingly in the disrepair his own mattress was in at home. It was messy, with clothes thrown this way and that across the floor. A few empty jars littering the carpet. It was dirtier than his room was allowed to be. A thick smell of tobacco hung in the air, the permanent sort you couldn’t just wash out. A gentle bluish hue of light bathing the floor from the frozen winter window.

Red stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. This room really did look a lot like his own room. The sheer familiarity of it eased him. As if shutting the door had shut out all of his problems, too. Releasing him from his worries about Boss and Pap and parallel universes. Like he could just forget about it all for a second if he wanted to. The room was so similar. It wasn’t much of a stretch to just pretend he was in his own room; and he made himself at home, flopping onto the stacked mattresses.

His bones didn’t feel sore or worn like they had the past few days. They felt pretty good. _He_ felt pretty good, all else aside.

The worries prickled at the back of his mind, but, eventually, the silence settled in. Red curled into the warm sheets and hugged the fluffy pillow close, dozing off on Papyrus’ bed.

 

 

_Thankfully, he didn’t dream._

 

 

Sans awoke on his own at some senseless time the next day. No one had barged into the room. No one had slapped him awake. No one had thrown him out into the freezing snow to get to work. And that alone was the telltale sign that this was a real place.

Truth be told, Red was sort of expecting to just wake up at some point back in his own bed. Maybe after all the adrenaline had finally worn off. Yet he was calm now; and he was still here.

This universe actually existed.

It wasn’t just some crazy imagining he’d had. Or a delirious fever dream in the throes of death. Because feeling content; feeling _rested_ like this wasn’t something he believed he was even capable of imagining. Fever dream or no. Yet, as he stretched his bones, as he rolled over on the too comfortable mattress, he felt so very … _okay_ with everything _._

Red sat up in the bed, a tinge of embarrassment creeping onto his cheeks as he realized he’d probably just gotten the best sleep he’d ever had in _someone else’s bed._

Gingerly, Red got off the mattress, trying not to disturb the bed any more than he already had. He realized, as he looked down at himself, that he’d slept in this stranger’s bed in bloody clothes. Clothes that he’d gone dumpster-diving in, no less.

He should probably change.

Fearing retaliation for dirtying the bed, even though it had already been messy, he slunk out of the room before he could be caught.

“M-mind if I borrow a shirt?” He yelled timidly down the stairs.

He didn’t get an answer.

Maybe he’d left?

Sans shuffled over to the top of the banister, peering over the side.

Red could see the top of Papyrus’ skull against the couch. He sat motionless in the room below. The stocky skeleton made his way down the creaky steps, descending into the dim gloom next to the larger skeleton. He looked like he hadn’t moved at all. Still dressed in his orange hoodie, arms still hung limply out to his sides, head sunk low. The bowl of soup next to him appeared untouched.

Red leaned down to pick up the cold bowl. Carefully lifting it up to not spill any of the valuable contents.

“N-not hungry, huh?” He asked no one. He wasn’t expecting a reply anymore.

It was strange the other hadn’t eaten. It was obvious he was low on magic. As he looked up at the other skeleton, his eyes were still just vacant holes. Red was starting to fear maybe he hadn’t brought the soup back soon enough. Maybe this was just a corpse, yet to dust with lack of wind or force.

Hesitantly, full of tension, he brushed his digits against the other’s skull, quickly retracting them. “You in there, b-bud?” He didn’t receive a response, but released a relieved breath when the bone didn’t crumble away at his touch either. He blinked absently at Papyrus a few more times, but obviously nothing happened.

Red slumped away into the kitchen with the bowl of soup. He lit the burner and reheated the old porridge. A few minutes later he brought the warm bowl back out to where Papyrus lay, setting it gently in the same spot on the carpet next to the unresponsive skeleton.

“I-In case you get hungry,” he mumbled, not meeting Papyrus’s empty sockets.

Then, he went back upstairs, searching for a change of clothes. He rummaged around Papyrus’ room, inspecting the clothes in the closet as well as the ones littering the floor, but he wasn’t sure why he bothered. Obviously, all of Papyrus’ clothes were too big for him.

So, instead, he stepped into his alternate’s room. The room was still wrecked, scars from the battle still visible, but maybe there was something in here he could use. He made his way into the closet, shutting the door behind himself to keep the chill out that was billowing in from the hole in the wall.

He began invading the belongings inside.

 The closet was rather orderly, more akin to Boss’ habits than Sans’. He riffled through several hangers. All the outfits were very …vibrant. Seemingly all some shade of piercing blue or other. Eventually he gave up trying to find something in a different color and settled for the least glaringly bright blue t-shirt in the bunch. A simple one, with no designs or stripes.

Red shrugged off his coat, tugging his dirty, ripped, red sweater over his head as well. The bones along his arms were worn with the usual chips and scratches he’d had for years, but along his ribcage, where Papyrus had healed him, the bones were significantly clearer of these minor infractions. While they were still there to a lesser degree, his ribs, in contrast, appeared clean and pristine against the others.

Except for a long diagonal slash across the surface. The scar sunken into half the bones’ width in the dense bones. It looked like it might still be painful. Though, Red hadn’t felt any discomfort from it since. The cut the only obvious marking marring Papyrus’ otherwise flawless handiwork.

He had probably only managed to heal Sans halfway.

But this was perfectly fine for Red. The bones were closed now and he could move his arms and torso freely without sending agony shooting through them. They functioned. The scar was nothing more than a visual imperfection. A taint to his appearance. Red couldn’t care less about that. He knew he looked like shit with or without a large crack across his ribs. 

Red tugged the blue shirt over his head. He was surprised it fit pretty well, maybe a little extra room around the stomach. Honestly, he had been afraid to find out if this other him may have been some tough, muscular version, what with his endeavors and all, but he was relieved to find out that was not the case. He should’ve known better with just a glance at his supposed bedroom.

With a fresh, clean shirt on, he considered leaving his old, filthy winter coat behind, but he knew he could never abandon his treasured jacket, whether it had a hole in it now or not. So, he pulled that back on, too.

After he was dressed, he headed back down the wooden steps into the living room. He spared a glance Papyrus’ way as he passed, but the bonehead was still slumped in the same position. “I’m headin’ out,” He called over his shoulder as he stepped into the snow.

This time he turned left out the front door, headed towards Waterfall. Easily falling into childhood habits of preservation. If they were going to survive, they needed provisions. The Dump was the best place to gather those. With seemingly no monsters about to hunt or prey upon them, it was unquestionably the best place to go for supplies.

Red arrived at the dump, the heaps of garbage no smaller nor less smelly than the ones in his Underground. He rolled up his sleeves and set to work digging through the closest pile. He searched for half the day. Diligently sorting the piles. Screams of echo flowers upon the winds that howled through the empty cavern as he toiled. While he didn’t find anything as note-worthy as clothes or food, he did find some ruined, bulky boards and metals. They were broken to the point he couldn’t tell what they had once belonged to, but Sans was good at making use out of seemingly useless things.

After all, _he_ ’d managed to survive in the Underground for years.

 He set all the objects of this nature aside as he came across them. Once he’d gathered quite the supply of junk, for the rest of the day, he went to work setting up the traps. Red waded into the various rivers’ currents, setting the heavy objects in the rushing waters in piles with the arrangement that provided the largest surface area. Binding weird shapes together with old, useless cables as rope. Crossing the cables, like netting, between some of the larger holes. Creating little dams scattered around in Waterfalls’ rivers. Some of the new garbage that flowed into the cavern throughout the day was bound to get snagged on the unusual shapes, catching them before the fresh trash could fall over Waterfall’s abysmal ledge. Red would just have to come back and check the traps later to see what they’d caught.

He wrung out his clothes as he made his way back to the cottage, a full day’s work behind him. He slunk down ghost-like halls and barren roads, until he came to the too cheerful front door. Red stepped into it, shivering slightly, the cheer from the outside all but a lie to the gloomy living room inside. He leaned forward, shaking himself to free the stray snow from his jacket. He was tapping off the ice that had gathered on the bottom of his worn sneakers when he noticed Papyrus.

He was looking his way.

The taller skeleton still sat in the same location. Was still slumped against the furniture, hands limp and upturned at his sides. Still motionless, but his head was no longer hanging. Instead, he was looking at Sans, sockets still dead.

“H-hey there, buddy,” He stammered out weakly, waving one hand awkwardly in a half-hearted manner. “I’m b-back.”

Papyrus seemed to deflate at his voice, head slumping back to his chest.

What? Was it something he’d said? Those words could barely count as sentences! How had he possibly offended him?

Red glared to the side, eyes sinking to the floor.

 

_Oh._

He was wearing one of Sans’ shirts. One of the dead Sans’ shirts. And he looked like his brother and _fuck._

“S-s-s-s-s,” He had a hard time trying to choke out the word. “ _Sorry!_ I b-borrowed a shirt this mornin’. Thought you’d heard me. I mean –I thought you knew,” the end of his apology just dissolved into a slew of senseless ramblings. His voice sinking the longer he spoke until you couldn’t make out anything coherent.

But Papyrus didn’t seem to care. He didn’t seem to be listening. He was back in that pose. Lifeless. Still.

He wasn’t interested in Red. He just wanted his brother, didn’t he?

_Sans_ would probably be able to fix this easily. Red wasn’t his brother; but on some level, they were the same person, weren’t they? Maybe there was something he could still do.

 For a while, a thick uneasy silence hung between them. Red tried to break it by smiling nervously over at the other skeleton, choosing to pretend his indiscretion had never happened. The other wasn’t reprimanding him for it, after all.

“H-how was your day? Did’ja eat anythin’?” He asked, walking over to where the other skeleton sat in the dimly lit room. Trying to keep an edge of cheer in his voice. Trying to set up an act of normalcy that might make the other skeleton feel more comfortable.

The bowl of porridge was untouched.

“G-guess not,” He said to fill the void after a long silence. He picked up the bowl. It was cold again. “I’ll just store this away ‘til you feel hungry. Alright?”

Red retreated into the kitchen. He fumbled around until he found some wax paper and wrapped the soup up, placing it inside the refrigerator far away from the moldy taco remains.

 He wandered back into the living room. He took a seat next to Papyrus on the floor, leaning back into the couch cushions behind him. The seat he chose was much closer to Papyrus than he probably would have ever sat next to another monster under normal circumstances. His arm close enough to press into the other’s orange hoodie sleeve. But this Underground had a way of making one want to seek out other life wherever it could be found.

Although, Papyrus seemed rather lifeless next to him.

He had seen him move his head, right? This monster wasn’t crumbling away from where his arm pressed into him. The warmth he felt to his side was alive and not some hallucination, right? Papyrus was still inside this shell of bones even though they hadn’t moved in days.

Red fiddled with his hands, draped in his lap, in the ensuing silence.  Scratching at his phalanges, picking at the scrapes between the bones. A long quiet moment passed. Nothing breaking it but the dull hum of the refrigerator in the dim light that soaked out of the kitchen. The skeletons huddled together in the shadows next to the sofa.

“Sorry,” Red murmured, keeping his attention down at his fingers after too much time had passed. “There’s nothin’ to eat but soup,” He confessed.

A long pause.

“It’s in the fridge though, if you ever feel like eatin’.”

It felt weird to talk aloud to no one.

But Papyrus wasn’t no one, was he?

Papyrus was in there. He just wasn’t talking to him. Red wasn’t entirely sure how to make this better, but he knew he’d fucked up. Borrowing a shirt had been a poor decision.

Still though, he stayed there like that, sitting next to the other in what could have passed as companionable silence, though it was heavy and awkward, until he yawned drowsily. His head slumped a bit into his shoulder. His side sank a bit into Papyrus’. When he realized he was slouching, he knew he had to go.

“Welp. Guess I’m goin’ to bed. G’night, Pap.” Red lightly tapped the other’s elbow with his own, allowing a hint of fondness to creep into the gesture, as he got up and headed into Papyrus’ room. The little skeleton collapsed onto the stacked mattresses exhausted.

 

 

_There was a weight on his shoulders. Two red boots were kicking anxiously in front of him._

_“You’ll put me down before anyone sees us, right?”_

_The night was getting late._

_“No one’s gonna see us, Pap,” Sans yawned lazily continuing the trek home. A young Papyrus was perched atop his shoulders as they made their way through the dim red glow in Waterfall._

_“I don’t want anyone to see me being carried!” He whined._

_“Do ‘ya wanna walk ‘yerself?”_

_No reply came, but Sans felt the mittens curl around his skull protectively, like he might force Papyrus out of his seat if he gave the wrong answer._

_“Didn’t think so!” Sans barked a laugh._

 

 

Red came down the stairs the next day, but Papyrus was still in the same position. He was sitting on the floor, back set against the sofa, head down, arms sagging, sockets dead.

“M-mornin’,” Red called out to him from the bottom of the steps. Keeping up this brotherly charade.

No answer.

Red stuck his hands deeply into his pockets, shuffling over to the unresponsive skeleton. His sneakers creaked on the floor next to the lanky form, but the other didn’t seem to respond as he approached. Red examined him, red eyelights trailing the larger form as he stood stiffly to the side. He was pretty sure the other hadn’t moved at all. He was still hollow, vacant, dead; like he wasn’t there at all.

Red slipped a hand out of his coat pocket. It hovered hesitantly in front of him, unsure if he should even bother. But he had to test if Papyrus was alive or not. He swallowed harshly and tapped the hand to the larger skeleton’s head. The skull didn’t crumble beneath his touch. Red released a shaky breath.

He forced a smile across his face, rubbing his hand deeply, in an affectionate manner, into Pap’s skull. The bones held. He kneeled down in front of the other looking into his empty sockets. “M-Mornin’ there, numbskull. Did’ja get any s-sleep?”

No response.

He wasn’t really expecting one, so it didn’t really sting when he was ignored. Red just rolled on into the next question.

“Didn’t have breakfast yet, h-huh?” He smiled at the other nervously. Standing back up, he slid his hands back into his pockets. “Didn’t think so,” he said solemnly, still grinning softly down at the other like this was a normal exchange. Pretending the cheer in his voice was real. He continued, shrugging over his shoulder, “Well, it’s in the fridge if you change your mind. I’ll mark it for ya’.”

Red shuffled into the kitchen and scribbled a label onto a post-it note in his messy handwriting and stuck it to the untouched bowl in the fridge.

‘SOUP – Please eat. Use burner on low for 20min. Stir.’

He then spent some time sorting the contents of the refrigerator. Everything had to be thrown out, but he felt like he shouldn’t toss all these containers Pap had left here for so long. He ended up cleaning out the inedible contents of the containers, washing them, and placing them back in the fridge as he’d found them; sticky notes still intact.

Red entered back into the living room some time later with a trash bag of his work.

“I’m headin’ out,” he called over his shoulder as he stepped out for the day.

Red made his way back to Waterfall, tossing out the trash over the endlessly deep pit. He then proceeded to check his traps one by one. He’d lost two. Must have been knocked by something too big to catch or simply hadn’t been sturdy enough to keep what they had caught. They’d been washed away in the current. Of the three he had left, none of them had caught anything very useful. So, he freed what they had managed to snag. The only note-worthy item was a long, thin fishing line which he managed to untangle. He wrapped it, pocketing it for later use.

Afterwards, he searched some of the dump piles he hadn’t gotten to yet, setting aside all the larger junk he found. In the deafening silence, he dug through the stinking heaps for most of the day, but he was unlucky yet again. Later, he used the bulky pieces to re-enforce the traps in the river, using the leftovers to set up one more dam.

He slunk back to the house at the end of the day through the empty streets, tired and weary. He threw open the front door, slipping inside out of the silent night.

“I’m back,” He called into the seemingly vacant house, though Pap was right where he’d left him.

Red skipped the living room and checked the fridge first. The soup sat untouched inside the frigid device. Red stood in front of it for several moments, allowing the cool air to hit his bones. Then, he wobbled back out to the living room, throwing himself down on the sofa behind Papyrus.

“Hey, Pap,” He said, patting the top of the quiet skeleton’s skull, as much to check the other’s life as it was to reassure him another being actually existed down here among the growing silence and stillness. It didn’t disintegrate under his touch. He was alive. He was in there, just ignoring Sans.

“Not much luck today,” He mumbled to the ceiling, reliving conversations he’d had with his own little brother ages ago to fill the empty space in the discussion. Ghosting his half of the conversation aloud.

“Don’t be picky, okay?” Papyrus had been a picky eater. He’d always had a taste for fine cuisine. The trash Sans brought back had never really satisfied that.

“’Ya know, if you’re not going to eat it, ‘yer not going to grow big and strong.” Red’s hand was still absently gliding across the other’s skull, eyes still fixed on the ceiling.

“I’m not gonna be able to take care of ‘ya forever.”

A long silence ensnared the moment. No snarky reply to claim that he would manage to survive without Sans. No answer came to release Red from this responsibility.

Just like before.

“’Yer a brat. ‘Ya know that?” He patted Pap’s head one last time and let his hand fall away. At that, he smiled stupidly at the ceiling. Some things didn’t change no matter what universe he was in, huh? Papyrus was still a little, needy shit one way or the other.

He lounged on the couch, stretching his bones out and simply relaxing. Allowing the weariness of the day to sink into the cushions below him. Basking in the presence of the one other existence in the entire underground. Maybe he wasn’t much for conversation, but if you strained your ears right in the silence, Red could swear he could catch the steady breaths of the other. Rising and falling to a gentle beat.

Unintentionally, he fell asleep on the couch behind Papyrus.

 

 

_Pap sat cross-legged on the stone floor of their nook. He slid the goop away from him with his leg distastefully. “I’m not eating that slop,” He barked, crossing his arms._

_“It’s not slop. It’s peas.”_

_“No,” was the firm reply._

_He was tired. He went through a lot to get those peas. He didn’t want to deal with this today. “Don’t be picky, okay?”_

_“I’m not picky. I have standards.”_

_“High standards,” Sans corrected sarcastically._

_“Edible is not a high standard.”_

_“’Ya know, if you’re not going to eat it, ‘yer not going to grow big and strong.”_

_Pap glowered at him, clearly displeased. “Why would I need to?” He shot, pulling in old grudges, “You make me sit inside all day.”_

_Sans just half shrugged back at him nonchalantly, not really looking over his shoulder, “I’m not gonna be able to take care of ‘ya forever.”_

_A long silence ensnared the moment. No snarky reply to claim that he would manage to survive without Sans. No answer came to release him of that responsibility._

_He glanced back over his shoulder at the sudden quiet._

_Pap was glaring at him still, trying to keep up a tough face, but tears were spilling over his sharp cheekbones._

_He felt like an ass._

_Sans reached over and dragged Pap towards him, the only protest he received was Papyrus’ stiffness refusing to uncross his arms, silent tears still dripping out of his sockets. He settled him in his lap and wrapped the little skeleton in a hug from behind, leaning heavily into the small form._

_“’Yer a brat. ‘Ya know that?” He said, smiling down at his brother. The peas forgotten._

_Pap sank quietly into his arms, little hands clutching at his sleeves._

 

 

Red awoke the next morning, curled on the sofa at the top of the couch; in the area closest to Papyrus. Limbs formed into a tight little ball behind his head. Far enough away to not touch, but close enough to somehow be smothering.

He didn’t apologize for their proximity this time. He simply stretched himself out on the sofa behind Papyrus. Clicking his bones together and working out the kinks. Allowing a lazy yawn to snake from his teeth.

Papyrus still seemed to be in the same position as before. His back slumped against the couch.

Red dropped a hand atop his head, rubbing the scalp idly beneath his fingertips. The bone held. He was still fine. Pap was fine.

There were probably more important things to do, but Red didn’t feel like getting up yet. Normally, he wouldn’t be given the choice, but Pap didn’t seem like he cared what Sans did one way or the other. So, after stretching his bones and readjusting his position; Red fell back asleep on the couch, hand still atop Papyrus’ head.

 

 

_He felt the jacket he was using as a blanket shift above him and he was forced to open his eyes to inspect the abnormality in the middle of the night. Something was worming its way up his torso beneath the coat he was using as a cover. Pap’s head popped out of the coat after he’d managed to crawl his way up._

_Sans squinted at him in the darkness. It was a late. “What are ‘ya doin’?” He asked, his voice thick and dazed._

_“Nothing.” Papyrus demanded, settling into the crook of his shoulder. He pulled his own itchy blanket around himself. Somehow snagging the coarse fabric across some of Sans’ torso, too. His eyes shifted off to the side, “It was cold.”_

_“Cold, huh?” Sans grunted doubtfully._

_“Yes, cold.” Pap insisted._

_“Whatever,” Sans mumbled, shutting his eyes again. He let his arm fall easily around the tiny bones. Somehow comfortable despite the itch. “Bet ‘ya just heard a human again,” He poked, allowing a wide, taunting grin to stretch across his face._

_“Did not!” Pap screeched in his ear._

 

He woke up again later that day feeling much more rested. Curled into the back cushions, arms tucked closely to his sides. The thick haze of heavy sleep still weighing on his mind.

He sat up, “Mornin’, Pap.” He blinked in an unsynchronized manner.

As one would expect, Papyrus was where he should be.

Red swung his legs over the side, hopping onto his feet and stretching out his joints. “Guess it’s a late start today,” He yawned.

Papyrus stayed quiet. He didn’t reprimand Sans for sleeping in.

“How was ‘yer night?” He asked, leaning to look down into the other’s face.

He could see those same bags under Papyrus’ eyes. Though, he’d had so many before, it was hard to tell if any of them were actually new or not.

“Didn’t sleep?” He speculated. “That’s not good. Ya’ve gotta get some rest, bud.”

Maybe Papyrus was still okay now. Maybe Papyrus was _just_ ignoring him right now. But the way he’d fallen over that first night hadn’t been fake. Red was sure this Papyrus really was low on magic and if he wasn’t eating; he had to at least sleep.

“Wait here,” he grumbled, though he knew Pap wouldn’t be moving one way or the other whether he said anything or not.

Red climbed the stairs. He entered Papyrus’ rooms and gathered the messy sheets off of the bed. Then, he dragged them all downstairs. He stretched the warm blankets out, flapping them in the air. Then, draped them over Papyrus’ shoulders. Pap made no move to oppose the gesture. Red spent some time tucking him in. Slipping the cloth to the floor behind his back and nestling the covers around his torso, until Papyrus had a comfortable cocoon.

“Get some sleep today, okay?” Red ruffled his hand roughly into the top of Pap’s skull, but the larger skeleton lacked resistance, allowing himself to be jostled along to the movement. “I’m headin’ out. Be back later.”

Red made his way back to the Dump, performing his daily chores, but worries about Papyrus plagued his thoughts. Maybe he wasn’t completely devoid of the ability to move yet. Maybe he was just choosing not to. Okay, Red _knew_ that was what Pap was doing. He wasn’t stupid. Red knew that blank look, he’d done it himself often. Papyrus just couldn’t be bothered to move anymore. What was the point when everyone he knew was dead, right?

It was hard to relate.

In honesty, this wasn’t even close to a worst-case scenario for Sans. If everyone in his Underground had died, that would just make Sans’ life easier.

Yet, if everyone in his Underground had died, that would mean Boss would be dead, too. That didn’t sit well with him. It twisted around his core, snaking uneasily into his thoughts. He didn’t know how he’d react to that. He didn’t know what he’d do if it ever came to that.

But he didn’t think he’d be incapable of surviving like Papyrus was.

 Just look how easy it was to get around the Dump now! No one stole your finds or ambushed you. It was simple. Life was easier without people. Yet, everything Red was finding as he explored this land was telling him a different story. Lacey tables at Grillby’s. A fuzzy welcome mat at the front door. A decorative tree in the center of town. Exactly what _was_ this place?

He already knew Papyrus had loved it.

He already knew Papyrus had lost it.

And Red didn’t want to lose Papyrus. The bonehead wasn’t going to last long if he wasn’t eating _or_ sleeping. He was in a pretty bad state. Red had to do something to get him to at least survive, but the other was unresponsive to all his efforts so far.

He could try and force a reaction from him…

Red shoved down memories of how others had treated him when he had blocked himself out like this. He threw those unwelcome thoughts away. He wouldn’t do that to Papyrus. Not some level one, harmless version of his brother. In a way, he might have a second chance here. A second chance with that childish Papyrus he missed everyday back in his universe.

If only he could get him moving…

Why did he always entertain such terrible possibilities? If he did; he wouldn’t be any better than every fucking lowlife back home. He wasn’t going to treat Papyrus in the awful manner he’d been treated and ruin it for both of them.

He shook his head; abandoning that train of thought. He would do this the right way! For the rest of the afternoon, Red focused on working diligently on his chores instead of allowing his mind to wander. Fearing what routes it might partake.

He dug around in the traps’ finds, the current washing around him as he released the useless catches off into the river. Something glistened beneath the waves. He reached his hand in, fishing for the glint, and freed a small jar from his trap. The cap was sealed on tightly. A translucent brown substance within the glass. He dried it off on his pants, wiping away the dirt and grime. It was honey. The same kind that was littered in empty containers around Papyrus’ room.

Pap would probably like this. Hell, he might even get him to eat something.

Red tried not to get his hopes up, allowing the screams of the flowers to dampen his mood. Clutching the jar closely to his chest as he worked on the other traps.

Red opened the door carefully late that night, peering into the dark living room. Papyrus was where he’d left him. Tucked away cozily beneath the blankets.

Red tread carefully across the floorboards, trying not to wake him in case he’d fallen asleep. He shut the front door softly and tip-toed into the kitchen. He checked the fridge. The soup was untouched. He was expecting that. Though, looking at it ate away at a growing hunger in his own stomach. But, if he ate it, Pap wouldn’t have anything to eat when he finally was willing to. He knew that bonehead would need it more than him, so he closed the fridge.

He gathered a spoon from the kitchen drawers and eased his way over to where Papyrus sat, head hung. As he dipped his head to see Pap’s face, he could see the sockets were still open, empty.

He was still awake.

“H-hey, Pap,” He greeted, deflating a bit at the lost look on Papyrus’ face. He hadn’t slept at all. He hadn’t eaten at all. Red hadn’t helped him at all.

_Sans_ probably could, though.

Red fell into the cushions behind Papyrus, sinking into the couch. “There’s still soup in the fridge,” He stated. He laid still as a long silence passed, twirling today’s find between his fingers.

“You didn’t sleep, either,” He noted, sinking the jar back to his chest. Nothing he’d done so far was helping Papyrus. He knew he needed to, but he was afraid to hand over the glass jar between his phalanges to Papyrus and watch that spectacularly backfire, too.

“Pap, I-,” Red shut his eyes, swallowing words away. “Look, bonehead,” He said more harshly, “‘Ya can’t just stay like this.”

Red swung one leg out over the other side of Papyrus. Sitting up, Pap between his legs. “I got somethin’ for ‘ya.” Red leaned past him and tapped the jar of honey into his upturned hand, allowing the weight to sink into the skeletal fingers. He placed the spoon across its top. Red didn’t know if it would help at all, but Papyrus had eaten the honeyed snow before energetically. There were jars of the stuff in his room. He could only hope it was something Papyrus liked and not something he’d been forced to eat in the absence of other options.

 He grabbed both sides of Pap’s skull with each hand and pulled his head backwards into his lap, so Papyrus was looking up at him. So, Papyrus couldn’t flat out ignore him. So, he could look into those empty eyes and pretend someone was in there.

Red glared into their depths.

“Listen. Just _eat something,_ okay?”

Pap’s eyes were vacant. Empty.

Red furrowed his brow at the silence. He didn’t know if Pap was listening. He didn’t know if he could even hear him. The only hint he had that the skeleton was in there at all was the fact that the bone didn’t crumble between his fingertips. He let Pap’s head slip away from him, allowing it to sink back into its usual position.

“I’m goin’ ‘ta bed,” He mumbled, untangling himself from Papyrus.

Red went up to Papyrus’ room. He closed the door quietly behind him, flopping down on the mattresses. It was colder without the sheets, but they were somewhere more important now. He didn’t need comforts like blankets to sleep at night. Red just curled into his winter jacket and fell asleep.

 

 

_The snow drifted down. Little arms were wrapped snuggly around his torso. They would hardly be able to stop him, but he didn’t move anyway._

_Maybe they were more effective than he was giving them credit for._

_“Let me go, Pap,” Sans sighed at his brother._

_He felt a tiny head shake vigorously into his back. The grip tightened, squeezing him around his thicker middle._

_He leaned heavily into the child behind him. Smiling, when he heard boots slipping over the ice, struggling to keep his weight up. A grunt of disapproval rising from beneath him._

_“This is_ snow _way to keep me here, bro. This isn’t very_ ice _of you.” He leaned even heavier into the struggling form behind him._

_The hands went from squeezing his middle to keep him here to trying to push him away before he crushed their owner._

_“Sans!” Papyrus’ nasally voice called, annoyed._

_“What’s the problem, bro? Tell me what’s_ weighing _on your mind.”_

_The little form was fully leaning into him now to try to keep him from falling. One hand smacking his side. “Sans, don’t!” It raged._

_“Don’t be so_ cold. _Just tell me what’s wrong.” He punned mindlessly. Sans crossed his hands comfortable across his chest. Placing all of his weight on Papyrus. He closed his eyes, prepared to wait this out. Grinning at the sounds of Pap fighting valiantly to still keep him up._

_“Sans! Stop it! Are you tricking me?” Paps shouted furious._

_“I would-I would never_ drag you down _like that, Pap,” Sans replied, lolling his head all the way back to try and get a peek at Papyrus’ efforts, barely keeping him up._

_Pap huffed angrily and shoved Sans hard enough to push him up a bit. His little brother dodged out of the splash zone and Sans crashed into the snow. White tufts spraying up, then dancing down._

_“FINE!” Papyrus screamed at him. He stomped his boot and despite his efforts at being ferocious; it looked pretty cute when he was wearing matching booties and mittens and a long, cozy scarf. “Do whatever you want!”_

_Sans didn’t get up, he just leaned his head back to watch the smaller skeleton storm away, back the way they had come, into the snow._

_“I think you need to_ chill out!” _He couldn’t resist shouting after him._

_“How can I when my brother’s such a_ flake!” _Papyrus screamed back, dripping with malice._

_“Heh, heh!”_

 

 

Red came down the noisy steps the next morning groggily. He’d overslept again. “Mornin’, Pap,” He called into the darkness drowsily.

Blearily, he shuffled over to the dim living room. He knew what he would find, but he willed himself to crack his tired eyes open anyway. The tall, lanky skeleton was still, back against the sofa. Right where he’d left him. Red sighed heavily, looking off to the side. The jar of honey sat off to the larger skeleton’s leg.

...Not where he’d left it.

It was opened. Lid discarded to the floor. A spoon lying across the open top. Maybe only two spoonfuls of honey missing from the jar.

“Heh,” A laugh broke from Red’s throat. Raw emotion was thick in his voice. “Y-you ate somethin’.”

That means he’d moved, hadn’t it? That means he was still in there. Papyrus had eaten something he’d brought him. He didn’t know why, but something like pride welled up within him. The emotion sat thickly in his chest as he couldn’t stop the smile that stretched on his fangs.

“Heh, heh!”

He stepped over the other skeleton, crouching across his lap, and tapped his forehead to the front of the other’s skull. His hand held the other’s head, jostling him affectionately. “Good job, buddy. Good job!” He praised, rubbing into the sides of his skull. “I knew ‘ya could do it,” He let a few more thick, emotional chuckles bubble up from his chest before he stepped away.

The other skeleton didn’t respond. He sat limply against the couch.

Sans didn’t care. He knew he was in there now. He knew he actually wasn’t dead or gone or lifeless. And he was actually capable of _listening_ , even if he wouldn’t respond.

“’Ya like honey, then, huh?” He asked Papyrus, feeling less dumb to be talking out loud now that he knew there was someone to actually talk to.

Pap didn’t respond, but Red felt like the evidence was clear enough. He picked up the jar and screwed the tin top back on, so that it would keep, but set it back by Papyrus’ side. He placed the spoon back on the top.  “I’ll leave this here for ‘ya,” He said, elated, “Eat as much as ‘ya want.”

He started to walk away, but he stopped to glance back over his shoulder. Papyrus just sat, cozily wrapped up against the sofa in the blankets Sans had placed around him.

“Brat,” He added, a smile creeping across his face. “I’ll be back later.”

Red left the house in a good mood.

He made his way back to the Dump along the empty roads. Howls and cries of death on the winds. The flowers whispering his name. Yet, there was a slight bounce in his step, as he made his way through the cavern.

He could do this.

He could get Papyrus to eat and sleep. He just had to figure out how to appease him enough to get him to perform the action. Which wasn’t much different than what he’d done for Boss when he was just a kid.

The cave was too dark and scary to stay alone?

Sans had filled their entire nook with red Echo Flowers, so even the corners had that red glow. He’d hum something stupid or leave a silly message with them before he left for the day. It had worked. Papyrus had stayed home instead of trying to follow Sans. To this day; Boss still even seems to like the color red.

It’s too cold to fall asleep?

That’s fine. Papyrus could just sleep with him. They’d curl up together at the end of the day. Papyrus was a restless sleeper, always tossing and turning in the middle of the night, the type that stole all the covers and pillows for himself, but at least one of them had gotten some rest.

Won’t eat the food?

That’s ok. Sans could just eat all the food and be stronger and taller than Papyrus forever.

Red snickered remembering Papyrus pouting up at him and stealing the food away in a fit.

_Ha!_ That had gotten him to eat.

It wasn’t safe for Papyrus to follow him here?

Just tell him all the bad puns he hated until he stormed away.

Red knew this game. He could play it. It was just a matter of figuring out what worked and what didn’t. Red didn’t know much about this Papyrus, but if they were going to be playing this game again, he knew he was less similar to Boss and more similar to his baby brother. He smirked at that. His baby brother was manageable. Maybe a spoiled brat, but never impossible.

So, what did he know?

Pap had eaten some honey. That meant some requirement had been met. Was it that he liked honey, but not soup? It was likely. Then again, he’d only eaten a little bit of honey. Or had it been something in the presentation? Was it because Red had placed the jar directly into his hand?

Whatever the case was, if he could repeat it; it was likely he could get Pap to eat again. If that were true; if he could acquire more honey, Pap would be safe for some time. Right now, he only had until that jar ran out. So, Sans spent the day digging out large pieces of trash from the piles. As he fished through the waste, he cleaned and pocketed a red pin cushion. After gathering the required bulky pieces, he began creating a much larger dam out of the trap that had caught the honey. It wasn’t a sure thing that the honey would always flow into this river, but, without proper statistics, guessing was the best option he had at the moment.

When he was finished for the day, Red went home to Papyrus.

“I’m back, Pap,” he called with much more confidence into the dark living room. He knew Papyrus was listening now, even if the lack of a response was still irksome.

Papyrus was still at the foot of the sofa, buried beneath the blankets.

“Didn’t really get much,” Red answered the silence. “What were you up to today?”

He knew Papyrus wouldn’t tell him, so he walked over to the lifeless form instead. The honey was where he’d left it. “Didn’t eat any more, huh?”

He crouched down and peered into Papyrus’ face. The bags beneath the eyes were so pronounced; heavy and thick, bruising the bone a sickly purple-brown. He scowled up into Papyrus’ face. “I thought I told ‘ya, you’ve gotta sleep,” he hissed at the disobedience. He sighed a short disapproving whistle of air through his nasal cavity.

How was he going to get Papyrus to sleep? He barely knew anything about this Papyrus’ sleeping habits. All he knew was that he’d fallen asleep while smoking, which wasn’t much to go by, but he wasn’t about to let him catch the house on fire again. He also knew he had a very comfortable bed.

It was worth a try.

“Wait here,” he grumbled.

He went up to the messy bedroom and stripped the bed of its only pillow. He stomped back down the old, wooden steps with his naturally heavy footsteps. He leaned against the railing at the bottom, holding up the pillow.

“Is this what ‘ya want?” He waved the cushion in the air in front of himself, but Papyrus made no reaction.

Well, he also knew this harmless Papyrus was more similar to his little brother than Boss. While Pap and Boss weren’t the same person, they were similar on some level, right? His little brother had absolutely refused to fall asleep alone. The only times he’d seen this Papyrus sleep was when he’d passed out and when he’d sprawled himself across Sans on the other’s bed.

Red clicked his tongue. “Ain’t ‘ya too big for this?”

Red carried the pillow over to the languid skeleton. He set the pillow down on the carpet on the far side of the tall monster. Then, he stepped back over Pap. He shoved him over with no resistance. Pap fell sideways, head landing on the pillow. Red corrected the blanket around him into a comfortable fit. Then, he stood back to admire his work.

Paps was sideways on the floor, curled up in a makeshift bed. Head lying across a crooked pillow.

 It was half-assed. It wasn’t good enough.

Red rolled the skeleton over onto his back. Then, adjusted the pillow, fluffing it beneath Pap’s skull. He stood up, sighing down at the languid skeleton. “All tucked in. Need anything else?” He asked austerely.

“A nightlight?” His gruff voice prodded, a shit-eating smile creeping onto his face.

“A bedtime story?” He teased, mimicking age-old conversations.

“Just get some rest,” He said when no one answered him. He sat down across from the larger skeleton on the floor. “I’ll be here ‘til ‘ya fall asleep. Wouldn’t want any bad humans to get ‘ya in ‘yer sleep, now would we?”

Red shrugged off his coat. Pulling out the fishing line and pin cushion he’d pocketed. He freed a silver needle from the cloth, spread the jacket across his lap, and set to work stitching up the hole in the back where the lunatic’s knife had stabbed through it. About an hour into this endeavor he heard slow, gentle breaths rising across from him. He glanced up.

Pap was asleep. Head sunken to the side, eyes closed, chest snoring.

“Goodnight, Pap,” He mumbled sleepily, grin stretching across his face. Red finished up the stitching on his favorite coat, snapping off the rest of the unused line between his sharp fangs, before he went up to bed himself. The mattresses didn’t have blankets or pillows tonight, but those were with their rightful owner now. He curled into his newly stitched coat and fell asleep.

 

 

_He laid on his back in his corner of their nook. Sans rubbed a hand over his ulna and radius, inspecting the damage. The burn had seared the bones a blackened ash. If he chipped away at it long enough, he could probably scrape off the charcoal until it was white again. But it would probably take him the rest of the week._

_Pap ducked into the entrance of the nook. His baby brother was as tall as Sans now. He was shooting up the height of a growth spurt with phenomenal speed. Maybe this entrance would only work for him for a few more years at most._

_Sans slid his sleeve quickly back over his arm._

_“Hey, Pap!” He greeted, smiling up at his little brother. “I got some food!” The stocky skeleton gestured to a greasy, paper bag off to his side. Grillby’s logo was imprinted into the front._

_Papyrus scowled at it. “Where did you get that?”_

_“Grillby’s. ‘Ya’know; in Snowdin.”_

_Papyrus sat next to him on the floor. He daintily inspected the paper bag, like the grease might infect him._

_“It’s not rotten,” Sans chuckled, trying to set aside his suspicions. It wouldn’t’ve been the first time Sans had brought back not-so-fresh food in a paper bag._

_Pap peered into the contents of the bag skeptically. “No, I meant, ‘How?’”_

_Sans grinned. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. I just put it on my tab!”_

 

 

Sans stumbled out of his borrowed room the next morning, sleep weighing lead into his steps. He leaned heavily into the railing, peering over the side. A lazy, half-lidded smile spread on his face. Pap was in his usual spot, sitting against the couch, still, head slumped, arms upturned at his sides.

Red made his way down the wooden stairs. “Mornin’, Pap,” He greeted, a crooked grin spreading on his face. “I know ‘ya moved, brat. You weren’t in that position last night.”

The blankets had fallen around Papyrus’ waist, suggesting he hadn’t done more than simply sit up, though. The jar of honey was untouched. Pap simply looked isolated from the comfort surrounding him.

Red cupped Papyrus’ chin in one hand and tilted his head up to look at him, instead of kneeling down to look into his face as he normally did. “Did’ja sleep long?”

 He ran his thumb under one of Pap’s empty sockets, tracing the bruising bags. It might’ve looked a little better, if only marginally.

“Hmm,” He hummed distractedly, “Maybe not?” He let go of Papyrus’ head, allowing it to sink away from him.

So, he’d eaten a little food and gotten a bit of sleep, it wasn’t much progress, but it was better than nothing. Any progress was still good to Red at this point. Honestly, he was happy with anything, but he knew Pap had to do more if he was going to recover.

The little skeleton leaned over, picking the discarded blankets back up. He stretched them out and draped them, once again, around Papyrus’ shoulders. He didn’t tuck them tightly around him like before, but simply left them loosely hanging from them.

This time he crouched to Papyrus’ level, tapping his forehead to the top of Pap’s head as he smoothed out the blankets across his shoulders. Papyrus’ head stayed low so Red couldn’t exactly see his face as he mumbled, “Good job. Anythin’s better than nothin’.” Briefly, he rubbed is forehead affectionately into the skull, unafraid it would dust this time, before he sat back on his haunches.

 He gathered the jar of honey and placed it on top of Papyrus’ palm, as he had before. “Eat some more, too, while I’m out today.”

With that he left the languid skeleton in the gloomy room, surrounded by small comforts.

Red made his way through the barren Underground back to the dump. Judging by the lighting in the cavern he could only guess he’d overslept once again. It was probably late afternoon, yet the underground still seemed to permeate with the absence of life, sucking away the comforts good lighting normally provided.

Red skipped across the wet stones, out to his traps. Rummaging through the filth as he did everyday. Yet again, he didn’t have much luck. He found an excessively ripped curtain cloth, an empty can of beans, two pool foam floaties, and a broken straw hat. He set these items aside because they weren’t completely destroyed, but he didn’t know if he was just getting desperate and trying to find use in complete junk or if they actually were useful.

For the rest of the day, he spent time moving the dams to different locations. If he wasn’t having any luck where they were, he might as well try them somewhere else. He tore them each down and reset them in a different spot, except the large one that had caught the honey. He left that one where it was.

He hauled his findings back to the house later, walking along the desolate pathways wrapped in a thick, frayed cloth, broken straw hat atop his head, two long foam floaties under his arms and an empty can of beans in his hand. Fuck he was glad no one was out to see this. He looked ridiculous.

The small garbage-clad form forced open the door to the shed. Kicking the door with his feet a few times until the weighty door scraped along the old grooves in the wooden floorboards and the door was fully open. It was much the same as their own home; empty, with a cage set up in the back. But, unlike his, this cage wouldn’t stop anyone. Red slipped between the too-wide bars and discarded the junk in a pile on the floor.

 Then, he hobbled inside, creaking his tired, but not sore, bones. He felt heavy. He flopped down on the sofa behind Papyrus, sinking deeply into the padded lumps.

“Hey, Pap,” He greeted, not opening his eyes. Red stretched his arms up. The joints rattled and clicked in response. He let his arm fall, exhausted, over the other side of the couch, dangling to the side of the other skeleton. Only then did he open a lazy eye to look at Pap.

He was right where he’d left him. Still and lifeless.

He trailed his red eyelight off to the side.

The honey was open again.

Red hooked his elbow under Papyrus’ chin, pulling him back to the cushions in an awkward, choking half-hug as he peered over his shoulder. “Hey, ‘ya ate more,” He jostled Papyrus, who didn’t fight the rough treatment, more energetically than he felt. “Look at ‘ya. Well on your way to being a functioning fuckin’ adult,” He squeezed Pap back into the cushions in celebration before he let the languid skeleton go.

“Next step’s talkin’. I better not hav’ta teach ‘ya from scratch,” Red rolled over onto his side, resting his head in the nook of his arm to stare at Papyrus. Who, of course, didn’t respond.

“Can ‘ya say, ‘H-,” and his stutter was actually useful for once as he caught himself before he called himself ‘Sans’, “’Hey, _Red._ Thanks for the food.’”

No response.

“Too hard for ‘ya, ‘ya little shit?” Though, the insult just didn’t hold any malice. It was light. Airy. Teasing. Sans was grinning into his sleeve, staring at Pap from where he lounged on the couch.

“How ‘bout, ‘My name’s Papyrus and I’m a lazy ass.’”

Papyrus didn’t play along.

“Too complicated for ‘ya?”

Red rolled over and draped an arm across his face, resting for a few moments. The dim and gloom of the room sinking into the atmosphere. The thick quiet he’d grown accustomed to stilling the air. “Okay. I got one.” He offered, closing his eyes, “How about, ‘Hello.’”

Only silence.

“No?” Red asked. “Com’mon, that one’s easy.”

Nothing.

Red sighed. “Are ‘ya tired? If ‘ya say, ‘Please, tuck me in, Red. I’m a big baby and can’t sleep alone.’ I’ll consider it.” He glanced under his arm at Papyrus, who made no move to say anything.

He just sat there with his head hung, pathetically.

“Yeah, yeah. Ok. ‘Ya don’t gotta pout. I’ll put ‘ya ‘ta bed, brat. Don’t be a pest.” Red swung his legs over the side of the couch. He leaned his weight into Papyrus until the larger skeleton fell over. Then fixed the pillow and blankets like before. Red plopped himself down at the head of the makeshift bed, hovering protectively over Papyrus.

“Nothin’s gonna get ‘ya while I’m here. Just sleep.”

The stocky skeleton huddled into his jacket, preparing for the long wait until Papyrus finally dozed off. He didn’t have anything to keep his hands busy with this time though. So, he struggled to keep his own sockets open while he waited in the closing silence. Head dipping occasionally as he nodded off on his watch.

“ _Goodnight,_ Pap,” He stressed after a few minutes with no success. “I ain’t gonna sing ‘ya ‘ta sleep with my heavenly voice. So, don’t wait for it,” he rasped.

Red snuggled into his knees and winter coat in the darkness. Creaks and groans shuttering through the old cottage. It was about an hour or two until he heard the slow, steady snoozing of the other. Red couldn’t help but smile that such a ridiculous process worked to put the large skeleton to bed. He really was a brat inside.

Silently, he got up and made his way to his own room for the night.

 

 

_With a thud, Boss slammed him into the wall, one hand furled into his unzipped jacket, the arm holding Sans up by pressing forcibly against his exposed ribcage. It was riddled with sears and burns across the bones. Blackened spots marring the once pristinely white ribs. Sans really didn’t mind the markings anymore._

_“Are you ignoring me?” He growled._

_Sans didn’t respond. He made no move to protest. He’d heard it all before. He never wanted Papyrus to see him like this. His eyelights fizzled out stunningly like circuits spasming out the last of their life. He just hung limply where he was held._

_“Sans!” Papyrus yelled, trying to call him back._

_It didn’t work. His sockets remained empty. His bones dead._

_Papyrus loosed his grip and slowly slid Sans down the length of the wall until he was slumped against its base. Bones exposed beneath the open coat. A shame for anyone to see._

_“Sans…”_

 

 

Red wasn’t greeted when he came stumbling down the stairs the next afternoon. That didn’t stop him from greeting the other, however. He wasn’t going to pass up a chance at talking to the one other person in the Underground.

“G’mornin’, Pap,” Red slurred blearily. He fell, cross-legged, into a seat opposite of where Papyrus was. The taller skeleton had sat up again, as predicted.

Red outstretched his hands lethargically towards the seemingly empty shell. “Com’mon,” He wiggled his fingers towards himself, “Lemme see those sockets.”

Pap made no motion to oblige, so Red leaned in the rest of the way, pulling the desired skull back towards himself. He cupped the pristine, white bone between his hands. _Sans_ had taken good care of Papyrus. He didn’t have a single fucking scar. He ran his right thumb over the bags beneath his left eye. It was the smallest, most insignificant of gestures, but Papyrus winced.

It was a natural, irresistible response to someone poking around your sockets, but Red grinned at it all the same. Seeing movement –any movement- was a rare sight these days.

“Relax,” he mused, “I ‘ain’t gonna hurt ‘ya. The color looks better. Got a good night’s rest, huh?”

He leaned back a bit after he confirmed the bruises the bags had caused were healing, but he kept Pap’s head trapped. “Well? Wanna try it?” He asked, shit-eating grin sliding easily back across his face, “Say, ‘Good Morning’, Pap~”

Papyrus’ dead sockets were locked onto him.

“Guh. Oohd. Moor. Ning,” He tried to sound out the sentence sarcastically for Papyrus, who just fixed him with his perfect blank stare.

“No?” he snickered.

“How ‘bout, ‘I can’t sleep in the dark~’?”

“How ‘bout, ‘No! Don’t leave me alone!’?” he whined in a mocking voice.

“What about, ‘Leave the light on!’”

“How ‘bout, ‘It’s cold! Let me sleep with you~’?”

Papyrus didn’t seem amused by his impersonations.

“No? None of ‘em?”

Nothing.

“Could’a fooled me,” He smiled a cheshire grin at Pap, “”Ya big baby. No ‘good morning’, though? Who even raised you?”

Silence.

“Rude brat,” he chided.

After he’d had enough of being an asshole, he let Papyrus slump back into his normal position.

 “I guess it’s, ‘Where’s breakfast, Red?’, huh?” He pulled himself onto his feet. He was a bit unsteady, but he had to look for food. “Welp. I’m off for the day. Be good while I’m out. There’s still soup if ‘ya feel hungry, if not,” Red shrugged. “There’s always some more honey.”

“But eat _something,”_ he added sternly before he walked out the door.

Red made his way down the now familiar vacant roads. The path a bit blurry at the sides of his vision. A crooked slant to his steps, but he trudged on.

Pap was eating and sleeping now. That was a good sign. He just had to stock up on supplies before it became an issue. Their rations were too low.

Mechanically, Sans ran through the normal daily motions, but he was a little… off. He jumped to a rock, but slipped off the slick surface into the water. He pulled too hard on one of the traps’ pieces to free some useless plastic and the whole thing collapsed. He had to rebuild it. All of it. When he dug through the piles of trash, he nodded off for a second and got a face-full of mysterious mush. He had to wash the filth off in the river.

And he still had _no luck._ Was the surface just as empty as the Underground here? Was there something important he was missing?

He dragged his wet sneakers through the filthy waters over to his last trap, the one created with the leftovers. It was a bit hastily crafted compared to the others, some of its pieces looked unbalanced, loose cables snaking behind it in the current, but it still held. Unempathetically, he started ripping away the snagged trash it had caught. Tossing the useless junk into the river.

Red zoned out. He was discarding pieces at such a rapid rate, that he didn’t realize until a little too late that the tin peach can at the edge of his fingertips had a weight to it. It wasn’t empty. The can of food fell from his grip, Red made to catch it, but his feet got tangled in the loose cables rocking against his feet. They both splashed into the water. The contents of the dam crashing to the current as the cord was tugged.

Suddenly, Red was in the rushing waves. As he bobbed to the top, his eyes locked on to where the tin can had fallen. All he cared about was the food. The water wasn’t tall enough to submerge him when he was standing, but he was fallen over now, the current making it difficult to right himself. The push of the river had a lot more force when you were almost entirely inside of it.

The little skeleton ignored these issues, though, searching blindly and frantically beneath the waves to try and catch the fallen food. Arms wildly splashing around the dirty, unclear water for the can.

He was so distracted, he didn’t realize the makeshift dam had fallen apart behind him.

Large pieces of junk slid into his back with the force of the water. Knocking him, again, beneath the waves. He struggled with the weight across him, submerged. Bubbles bursting from his fangs. He didn’t need to breathe, so, this would have only been unpleasant, except; he was tangled in the clutter as it ebbed towards the abysmal ledge of Waterfall. Red tried to right himself in the water, but he was so disoriented. He scuttled up the heavy board, breaking the surface of the water. It took all but two seconds, but that was too long. They hit the edge.

Red went over the side with the garbage.

Red suffered a brief panic of stagnant freefall. Watching as the world above him sank away from his outstretched hand. Losing the world he knew. The darkness of the chasm closing in around him.

Then, he fell into his shortcut.

It spit him back out, harshly, at the top of the Dump. Red smacked into the dirty, wet stone dripping wet and sputtering. He was suddenly reminded of just how long it had been since _he’d_ had anything to eat as well. His magic reserves were painfully low and, with just that teleport alone; he’d overused them. He wretched a few times on all fours on the rock, but he had no extra energy to expend. He just shuttered through the unpleasant motions.

The skeleton coughed and gasped a few times as he rolled over onto his back. The world was spinning. It ached. He felt awful, but not _physically_. No.

He’d lost the food.

He’d lost the dam.

The silence seemed so final. He should have just gone over the ledge with the fucking garbage. What was he even doing? He was useless! The screams of the echo flowers sounded almost taunting in the distance. When he finally recovered enough to stand, Red wobbled home damp, disoriented, and in a foul mood.

He swung open the door to the living room empty-handed once again, peering into the darkness. Papyrus was right where he always was.

 Red collapsed on the carpet next to Papyrus, not bothering to greet his quiet companion. He leaned his back into the orange hoodie. Using it as a false pillow, he closed his eyes against the gnawing hunger in his soul. If anything he felt it more intensely when his eyes were shut.

Red knitted his eyes closed, taking deep breaths to the rhythm of the chest rising behind him. Trying to ground himself against the deafening silence. When he thought he’d succeeded, he eased the pressure off the larger skeleton a tad, opening his eyes to the dim and gloom hanging thick in the living room. It fit his mood. He adjusted himself so his side was leaning into Papyrus instead.

 He hated to be so clingy, but he needed another person right now. Just the warmth was enough. He was cold. The snow had done a number on his wet clothes. Chilling him to the bone. He was iced. Red leaned his head heavily into the bonehead’s shoulder.

“Hey, Pap,” he breathed, eyes downcast. “My day kinda _stank._ How was ‘yers?” He shifted minutely into the big arm to look over at Pap, but he couldn’t bring himself to lift his eyes. The cloth felt good against his cheek.

He didn’t get a response.

“Let’s try again. Say ‘Welcome back!’, Pap.”

Nothing.

Why did this silence, of all the infinite silences he’d heard over the last few days, ring so loudly in his ears? It fucking _hurt._ This silence couldn’t fill in the holes in the conversation with snarky jabs. This husk of a monster wasn’t going to cling onto him because he was cold at night or smack him when he did something wrong. His soul ached to see Papyrus so dead like this.

“It’s rude not to greet someone, ya’know?” Red hugged his arms to himself to keep back the bite of the chill, but his damp coat wasn’t doing him any favors. At least his voice was dry. His vision trailed across Pap’s lap.

Red froze.

On Papyrus’ lap was a small pile of yellow notes, written in a neat, clean script.

Red carefully eased off of Papyrus, red eyelights locked onto the sticky notes.

They were from the fridge.

“Were ‘ya hungry?” The words fell out of his mouth in a stupor.

His sockets started to get huge as the implications of the tiny items started to sink in.

Papyrus had been up. Walking. Moving. Maybe even getting food of his own accord!

And now…

 And now he was here. Lying as limp and as useless against the sofa as the first god-forsaken day. A pile of notes his dead brother left behind in front of him. Notes Red had stupidly left in front of the only goddamn food in the house.

Red shrank away from Papyrus. Tiny, red, little pinpricks darted between the mementos and Pap’s face. It was blank, unreadable, and as lifeless as it had been every bloody day since. Papyrus was going to go straight back to day one. All progress lost.

_Progress?_ He hadn’t made any! Red hadn’t helped at all!

He tried being nice. He tried being patient. He tried treating him like a good brother would. He tried _everyday_ and time and again he was met with this vacant look!

Red leaned back towards Papyrus, but the taller skeleton didn’t acknowledge his presence.

At all.

_Again._

 “How ‘bout I take those f-for ‘ya?” He tested, falling back on habits of ‘normalcy’. Trying to slip back into his normal cheer for Papyrus. Carefully, he eased the notes off of his lap and set them aside, away from Papyrus’ vision.

Pap didn’t even blink.

Red smiled half-heartedly at the other. He didn’t have the willpower for this right now. “H-how ya doin’, bud?”

He sunk his head to look into Papyrus’ face. Searching for a clue. A hint at what he needed to do. Only empty sockets met him.

 Red recognized the hollow look there. He was trying to blast his mind away. Trying to forget. Trying to go numb. It wasn’t just something he’d seen in these last few days. Sans knew that look well. He’d done it himself a dozen times. He’d just never been on the receiving end like this. This wasn’t something his little brother would ever do. Papyrus’ blank mask was too good, it shook Sans’ resolve. Resolve he’d been clinging onto desperately these past few days.

“Are ‘ya even in there, Pap?” His voice was a tad rougher than he intended, but he needed an answer. He needed someone. A conversation, a reply, a response, a wince. Some confirmation. _Anything_.

Nothing.

He was really starting to piss Red off.

His Papyrus was a fighter. His Papyrus never just gave up like this.

Maybe he wasn’t _Sans_ , but he was trying, dammit. They were the only two people in the entire fuckin’ Underground. Would it kill him to say something to him?

Red glowered at Papyrus. An edge in his voice betrayed his frustration, “Do ‘ya think ‘yer alone or somethin’?” Hell, Red knew he felt like he was.

Silence.

This Papyrus was completely hopeless. He’d die like this. He’d dust if he was left alone. _Sans_ was dead; Pap couldn’t wait around for him. Red was the only person down here. The only person who could help. If he left Papyrus alone, he really would be abandoned.

Red knew he could never abandon Papyrus.

But if he went over the edge of Waterfall again and didn’t have the luck of a shortcut to fall into, as he so often didn’t in this universe, he needed Papyrus to be able to at least _function_ without him.

“Bonehead.” He called to no response. Red couldn’t allow him to stay like this. At this rate he was going to starve. Waste away. He’d be dust in no time. He had to fix this. Had to snap Pap out of this. He was the only one who could.

Pap’s face was so lifeless. So vacant.

Sans had made that face dozens of times. This dead look was a look Red was intimately familiar with. He knew the sorts of things that could shake that face best. The sorts of things he just couldn’t block out even if he wanted to. They weren’t pleasant, but he knew them. Pap wouldn’t be able to avoid them, either.

He didn’t _want_ to subject Pap to this, but he’d do anything if it meant he could see a glimpse of his baby brother again. Just a glimmer of life to know he was in there. He didn’t want to give up on Pap. He had to try.

Sans leaned in closer, tugging Papyrus’ face his way with a single finger. Annoyed, Red looped his phalange under Papyrus’ mandible. He curled that finger around the bone near his jaw joint and pulled the lanky skeleton’s mouth open.  Maybe Papyrus thought he was just testing him. Maybe Papyrus thought he would stop.

He didn’t.

Sans pressed his fangs against Papyrus’ open mouth, conjuring his tongue. He swirled the red appendage around the larger skeleton’s mouth, shoving Papyrus’ head sharply back towards the couch as he did. Locking him down as he wrapped his free arm around him.

Papyrus flinched under him. Red felt hands jolt up. He felt thin fingers curl into his thick jacket sleeves, trying to tug him away; but Pap didn’t have the energy. Red practically smiled into the kiss.

He was moving.

He was fucking moving.

In this god-forsaken wasteland there was a person in his arms; living and alive and moving.

Pap tried to lift his head up, but it only pushed their mouths closer together with an audible _clink_. One leg jumped up, attempting to get some footing so he could push Red away. Yet Sans wasn’t going to give him a chance to avoid him. He had ignored him too long. He couldn’t just push Red away now. He wouldn’t let him.

The small skeleton deepened the kiss, distracting Papyrus. He wrapped a hand around the back of his skull. He ran his tongue along the back of his teeth, lapping at the long slender tongue he felt form in the other’s mouth as it tried to run from him. Sans threw one leg across Papyrus’ lap, pinning him down. He pressed his teeth more urgently against Papyrus’ with renewed vigor. Forcing his head all the way back onto the sofa’s cushions.

“Re-! Nnn!” Papyrus gasped, losing strength.

And it was fucking music to his ears to hear another voice in the silence. To hear that short moan _responding_ to him.

Red could feel his prey’s long finger bones that had curled so desperately into the cloth of his jacket at first, slip a bit, still pulling lightly at the back of his coat. He let the kiss go on entirely longer than it needed to, just to watch him struggle. To fight for something. Red sucked at the other’s tongue, swirling his around the warmth of the other’s mouth, enjoying every feeble tug at his jacket; until both of them craved air. With a pant, he freed Papyrus’ mouth.

He drew away. Letting their tongues unlock and their teeth part. Holding a drained Papyrus loosely in his arms.

“Alone, my fuckin’ ass,” He growled, looming over his victim. Calling him out on days of bullshit and lies. He wasn’t alone. _They_ weren’t alone.

Papyrus flushed orange. One hand shot up to cover his mouth with one hoodie sleeve to protect it against further attacks. He was blushing _furiously_. His entire skull turning the shade of a tangerine. Piercing orange eyes locked onto his with such horror, such disgust, it made Red tense.

Papyrus didn’t say anything.

When the other did nothing but stare up with shocked and bewildered pupils; Red grunted angrily and got off of Papyrus, roughly shoving him away as he did so.

He wasn’t wrong.

Despite that judgmental look Papyrus was giving him; he wasn’t wrong because Papyrus was looking at him now. Orange pupils alight in the sockets.

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to look at them.

He thrusted his hands rigidly into his jacket pockets. Red eyes set on the floor. With a huff, he stormed up the stairs, making a point to thud loudly on each step. 

He.

_Thud!_

 Wasn’t.

_Thud!_

Alone.

_Thud!_

Red slammed the door to his borrowed room shut. Leaning heavily against it once he was inside. He sank slowly down the wood to drop his head into his hands. Fuck. What had he done? He’d been trying so hard to treat this Papyrus like he thought _his_ brother might treat him. Do something fucking good for once and what had he done?

He’d fucked it up as he usually did. Spectacularly.

Was he even sane anymore?

Red flopped over on his side in the fetal position. Claws scratching into the back of his skull.

Yet it had worked, hadn’t it? Pap had moved. Had spoken. He’d even looked at him. Maybe he would never come within ten feet of Red ever again, sure, but he was functioning. Wasn’t he?

No.

Red had made that face dozens of times. Sure, doing that would prod a response, but it was hardly _helpful._ He’d just find Papyrus back in that same spot tomorrow morning.

Miserable, Red curled into a little ball. Feeling the weight of his soul pound into his chest painfully, as if it were punishing him for his own stupidity with every punch to his ribs, until he finally passed out on the floor.

 

 

_A livid orange-stained skull. A sleeve covering half its face defensively. Big pupils staring up at him like he’d just stolen his innocence or something._

_And… Okay, fuck, it was kind of cute._

 

 

Red wobbled down the dim staircase. Mind thick with a restless sleep. His bones felt heavy. He swayed with each step, head angled down. So oblivious he’d almost missed the form at the bottom of the steps. He glided right past it. Red flung himself into the wall with a start when he realized something was so out of place. That something wasn’t where he’d left it.

It was Pap. He was waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase, off to the side of the railing.

Red stayed in his position, pressed against the wall, soul pounding a mile a minute. Bewildered, red eyelights glancing up and down the _standing_ skeleton with disbelief. He seemed a lot bigger when he was standing up. He seemed a lot more intimidating when he was twice his size.

Slowly, Pap raised his head enough to glance at Red, but he looked quickly off to the side once he had. “morning,” he practically whispered.

And the fucking _sound_ of another person twisted his soul in all the right and wrong ways.

“M-mornin’,” Red only managed to choke out the sound because it was such a habit. He still didn’t move from the wall. Tense and defensive, waiting for the retaliation he deserved.

Pap glanced up at him several times, bright orange eyes locking onto his face for half a second, before they darted away. Like he couldn’t manage to look him in the face. Every quick flash of orange reminded Red of a brilliant shade of tangerine he’d seen recently.

His soul sunk, anchored by guilt.

“i… i thought maybe i could go with you today,” still not managing to look Red straight in the face.

The smaller skeleton scooched along the wall in a wide breadth until he’d gotten out of Pap’s range. Avoiding him by an excessive radius.

As he considered the request, that anchor dragged Red’s soul straight into yesterday’s rage.

After everything, why would Pap want to do that? He’d certainly seemed fine not to bother with Red until now. Ignored for days. Then, after _last night,_ suddenly, Pap was up and moving and acting normal? What happened to that damning gaze he’d received then? Like Red was the _last_ being he wanted near him, even if he had been the last thing in the Underground.

“Did’ja now?” he hissed more harshly than he intended, a finality in the tone. The bite of anger he’d felt the previous night laced hot through his bones.

He wanted to just walk away from this whole thing.

Red shoved his hands in his pockets and started to do just that; walk towards the door. It only took him two steps to realize how coldly he’d spat his response –and he froze.

Pap was fucking standing, _talking_ to him. This was a better outcome than he’d hoped. He’d thought with a stunt like that he’d get a reaction, but not a _resuscitation_. This was what he’d wanted this whole time. This was what he’d been aiming for. He wanted Papyrus to move and speak and be fucking _alive_ again. And the first thing he’d done when Papyrus actually _had_ was shoot him down in a senseless rage.

And now it was silent.

Red squeezed his eyes shut painfully. Slowly, he turned, glancing over his shoulder.

Pap stood deathly still, sockets hollow. Legs stiff, arms limp. Killed right on the spot. The glimpse of those vibrant orange eyelights just a pipe dream if he left him like this. The Underground would be forever quiet if he just walked away like he wanted to.

He was pissed. He was perturbed. He was scared, but he wanted Papyrus –a _functioning_ Papyrus- much more.

“A-Actually, it’d be nice if ‘ya came along,” Red stammered out, eyes shooting away to the side the second he saw Papyrus’ head move his way, as if suddenly the wall had caught his fancy. “I c-could use the h-help,” he continued persuading the wall.

He didn’t get a response.

His soul ached. He allowed a few shaky breaths to wrack his bones. He’d fucked up so soon. He forced himself to look back over at the damage he’d done. Back at Papyrus.

The taller skeleton was smiling at him softly. Piercing, orange eyelights locked onto his face.

Red immediately glanced away, staring at the cushy carpet. Fidgeting his water stained sneakers with his feet.  “Did’ja eat breakfast, yet?” He grumbled.

“no,” the other answered.

No, of course he didn’t.

Red glared at him, storming past him into the kitchen. “’Ya can’t c-come along unless ‘ya eat breakfast.”

“ok,” he agreed, a hint of amusement in his voice. Then, suggested, “i could just eat lunch later, if you were leaving now.”

“No,” Red growled irrevocability, grabbing the cold bowl of soup from the refrigerator, “Breakfast now or you don’t g-get to come.”

“breakfast it is, then,” he said lazily, as if it didn’t matter one way or the other. A lanky form leaned against the kitchen’s wooden frame. Watching Red intensely as he reheated the old soup.

Red was ignoring the twisting in his soul at the sound of another voice after so long of listening to nothing. Swallowing down the growing anxiety at the unnatural presence of movement in the corner of his eye.

Eyes straight, the little skeleton slid the nearby step in front of the oven, climbed on, lit the burner, and poured the entire bowl of cold soup into the pot stiffly. He tapped the spoon loudly against the edge to save as much extra as he could. The sound seemed to echo across the house. He kept his eyes down as he swirled the food. That damnable silence settling into the scene.

Red didn’t think there was anything he wanted to hear less than silence; he was wrong.

“why did you kiss me?” Pap asked, breaking the silence.

He almost dropped the spoon into the pot. He glanced over at Papyrus perched in the doorframe, hands folded across his chest, long legs stretched out in front of him blocking the only exit. The body language reminding him vividly of a stern Boss. Sharp, intelligent eyes staring at him from within those heavy lidded sockets, awaiting an answer.

Red had the mind in his panic to wonder if perhaps he had foreplaned this. Now, Red was trapped in the kitchen with him; without an escape.

“S-s-sorry,” He stammered out.

“you’re sorry?” The other prodded, but it was hard to read any solid emotion in the tone. It was more like he was reading aloud the lines.

Red didn’t make any move. Eyelights frantically searching the other’s face for the right answer, but Pap’s face was just as unreadable awake as it had been the rest of this time. Without the right answer; he couldn’t reply. Instead, he shriveled away from the doorway.

Pap unwound his hands, raising them in surrender. Brow pinching upwards in surprise. “ok, you don’t have to answer that.”

Red’s fear halted suddenly at the nonchalance in the other’s voice. He could only stare at him in confusion. Had he misread that? That body language had definitely read as hostile to him. He darted his eyes to the side at the pitying look the other cast his way, furrowing his brow. He busied himself with stirring the soup once again instead. The silence started to ease in.

But Papyrus broke the silence once again.

Red wished he hadn’t.

 “why did you stay?”

Red didn’t glance over at Papyrus, he didn’t want to see a sympathetic face like that again.

He wouldn’t say he had nowhere else to go. Couldn’t tell him that this was his house. That he was Sans.

“’Ya looked like ‘ya n-needed the help,” Red grumbled softly, feeling self-conscious about the answer as soon as the words left his mouth.

Instead of something snide; the reply came:

“thanks.” It sounded genuine, too.

Red wasn’t really sure what to do with gratitude. It was almost indirectly praise. Or at least an endorsement his actions had been correct. Which… they hadn’t been, had they? The way he’d looked at him yesterday was as if Red had wronged him.

The little skeleton hazarded a glance back at Papyrus.

The taller wasn’t looking at him now. He seemed to be glancing down, lost in his own thoughts. The withdrawn look startled Red. The last time Papyrus’ eyes went distant like that he had lost him for several days shortly after.

“N-No problem!” Red shouted and Pap jumped at the sudden outburst. “I mean- you’re welc-no, no- I-I mean… I owed ‘ya, anyway. I couldn’t j-just not repay a debt.”

“you owed me?” Pap asked, baffled.

“Ya’know. For the,” and Red gestured a hand around his chest. “For the rib thing.”

“healing?” Pap’s eyebrows rose up skeptically, “you were half dead.” He insisted, “anyone would have healed you.”

No, no they wouldn’t have. Most would have left him to dust. Certainly, none would have fainted in an attempt to save him. Was that childlike optimism? On _Papyrus_?

It was so out of place. Even as a babybones his little brother had often been critically logical. Red smiled crookedly, but held back a snicker. “Sure,” He agreed with the childish claim, stirring the pot again. “If ‘ya say so.”

A gentle steam rose from the soup.

He wasn’t going to argue with innocent optimism. With all the monsters dead, Pap would never have to face the day his blind faith shattered, anyway. Red certainly wasn’t going to crush it.

The small skeleton, perched on the step at the oven, gestured, with a jerk of his thumb, behind him at the kitchen table, “Take a s-seat.” He poured the now warm soup into a fresh bowl. He was surprised to turn around and find Papyrus seated at the kitchen table without a word of complaint. Without a word of protest to being given a command like that. Carefully, he set the precious bowl of soup in front of him.

Papyrus was watching him move and Red felt a little self-conscious.

“how are your ribs?”

“Fine.” As if on command, he rolled his arms briefly in display. “They work. ‘Ya d-did a good job.” Really. Healing magic was impressive if not unpleasant. He would have likely still been bedridden in his universe. He slid into the wooden seat at the far end of the table, opposite of Papyrus.

This time Papyrus smirked at him, “glad to hear it,” but his smirk fell. Replaced by a quirked eyebrow when Red sat at the table without any food, “where’s yours? aren’t you going to eat?”

And the skepticism was a very Papyrus trait. Red couldn’t help but be amused by it, but he had years of experience with it, too. He dodged the question easily, “’Ya left that soup rottin’ in the fridge ‘fer a week. I ain’t touchin’ it. It’s yer p-problem now.” He dropped his head to his elbows on the table, ending that conversation early.

Red was hungry, but he wasn’t going to eat. Papyrus hadn’t even been able to _push him off_ of him last night. Clearly, he needed all the food he could get.

Pap didn’t seem pleased with this answer, but he apparently accepted it. Perhaps that childish side Red had witnessed earlier led the taller to believe Red wouldn’t lie to him because he picked up a spoon and started eating.

Red smiled victoriously into his sleeve. Watching the other as he downed the food.

It must have tasted stale by now because he made a humorous face through the first few bites. Shortly into the bowl, however, when he caught Red watching him, he smiled almost apologetically, vigorously eating the rest.

Red grinned into his sleeve through the whole thing, hiding his fangs, amused and pleased seeing Pap eat what he had made him. He relaxed his head on the table, enjoying the show. When he was done, Red automatically went to retrieve the empty dish.

“thanks for the food.”

Again, Red didn’t really know what to do with gratitude. He shuffled uneasily when Papyrus looked at him like he was supposed to respond with something. “Yeah- no- I-I owe ‘ya. No need to say that.”

“i really don’t think you do,” Papyrus corrected.

When, really, Red knew that wasn’t true.

An awkward pause held the air, the gratitude unreceived.

Despite it usually having disastrous outcomes, he was unable to stop himself from teasing a lookalike of his baby brother.

“No need ‘fer thanks. It was just revenge,” Red said, giving Papyrus a telling wink. He was sure it had tasted bad by the face Pap had made those first few bites, no matter how he was trying to sell it now.

Pap seemed flustered to have been caught. Eyes wide. Jaw working to find words, but failing to properly form any. Seemingly determined to keep up some kind of etiquette now, even though he hadn’t even greeted Red in the past few days. “no! it was-“

“Heh! Heh!” Red laughed at the panic clear on Papyrus’ face, cutting him off. “Pretty awful, yeah? Don’t lie ‘ta me, bonehead,” He warned. Red ran a finger along some of the residue in the bottom of the bowl and stuck it into his mouth, licking the phalange.

Papyrus watched him rigidly.

Even Red had to scrunch his face from the taste. Definitely expired, though, not quite rotten. Sitting out lukewarm for those first two days probably hadn’t done it any favors either. Moist, yet somehow grainy. An unpleasant tang followed by a zest for something sour, and not the kind he liked, settled on his tongue.

“Wow. Props to ‘ya for finishing _that._ ” Red rinsed the bowl off in the unusually low sink. He turned back to Papyrus, who, once again, had that tangerine lightly staining his cheeks. Caught in embarrassment.

This time, Red could admit it was cute without feeling like a fucking predator.

He smiled having effectively tongue-tied him. “Com’mon, brat. Let’s go.” His hands found his pockets out of habit. Red didn’t wait for him, but walked out the door. He heard Papyrus following behind him. The crunching of snow trailing his back. It was only a few minutes before Papyrus had to break the silence yet again.

“so where have you been going everyday?” Pap questioned.

“The Dump,” Red responded shortly.

“that would explain the smell.”

Red glared at him over his shoulder, but Pap just smiled down at him. A stupid, lazy grin stretching across his face, clearly not concerned with being polite anymore.

“Got a c-complaint?”

Pap picked up his pace, easily catching up to Red’s head-start out the door with his long gait. He slowed to match the smaller skeleton’s pace so they were walking together instead of being lead around. Red still had to crane his neck to look at him. The small skeleton also dodged to the side to put a significant amount of space between them, even though they were pacing each other.

“when was the last time you took a shower, Red?”

“B-being _nosy_ , are we?”

Pap shrugged just his shoulders indifferently. “i just _smelt_ like knowing.”

Red breathed a sharp laugh of air out through his nasal cavity. “’Ya don’t even got a nose!”

“which, really,” He winced in mock contemplation, “makes your aroma all the more impressive.”

“Noted,” Red grunted, shaking his head at Papyrus’ finicky side rearing its head _now_. “’Ya s-sure ‘ya wanna come to the _dump_ with me t-then, Mr.Nosey?”

“yes. and how about a nice, hot bath afterward?” He suggested idly.

Red rolled his eyes. “I’ll t-take one if you do, hypocrite. Don’t pretend like ya’ve exactly b-been squeaky clean yerself.” He hadn’t even moved in the past few days. There was no way he’d showered.

“deal,” Pap laughed.

“D-deal,” Red growled in forfeit.

They made it to Waterfall. Blue glows bathing the damp walls. Red skipped a practiced maneuver across the wet stones out to the first trap on the upper ledge. He started fiddling with the catches of the day. Discarding the useless ones. Or, rather, the majority, into the rushing waves. He glanced back at Papyrus when he didn’t hear the splashes of someone following him.

The tall skeleton was rigidly stiff, off to the side of the river. Red couldn’t see his eyelights anymore. While he wanted to pretend it was just the distance between them, Pap’s tense body language spoke for itself. Something was wrong.

Slowly, Red became aware of the droll background noise he’d grown accustomed to. The screams of flowers echoing through the winds. Painful cries of his name in the breeze. The chorus of a hundred monsters pleading for their lives.

He had drowned it out. Pap, apparently, hadn’t.

“Hey!” Red called over them. Pap snapped his attention back to Red. “’Ya g-gonna help? Or are ‘ya just gonna s-stand there?”

Pap just blinked at him.

“Afraid of the water?” Red let his shit-eating grin stretch across his face. A clear warning he _would_ be using that information against him later if he refused.

“no,” Papyrus said distantly, like he couldn’t think of any other words at the moment.

“Then, get ‘yer ass over here.”

Pap made his way carefully out towards Red, who was submerged in the water to his mid-thigh. The water only came up to Papyrus’ tibia, though. Reminding Red just how much taller Pap was than him. He was probably only half of Papyrus’ height and even that might be generously wording it. Pap crouched down, ignoring the water, to be closer to Red’s height when he reached him.

Red felt a bit indignant, watching someone lower themselves just to speak to him, like he was really that small. When, really, Papyrus was just that freakishly large.

“what do you want me to do?” He drawled calmly. The concern Red had almost seemed unwarranted at the composed tone.

Red ignored both these feelings, trusting his gut, quickly diving into an explanation on how to clear out the trap to Papyrus. Dropping a few pieces of junk into the current in example. When Papyrus started clearing the trap, Red started to inch away. Pap watched quizzically as the smaller backed away from him.

“That’s it. ‘Yer doin’ it. Y-yup.” He started shouting before he was very far away, unnaturally, much louder than he would ever usually speak, “JUST LIKE THAT. K-KEEP CLEARING THAT OUT. I’LL BE DOWN AT THE N-NEXT LEVEL IF YOU NEED ME!” Red belted, trying to overwrite all the nearby echo flowers. There would probably still be screams in the distance, but hopefully they’d be harder to hear over his senseless shouting.

Papyrus watched, confused, as Red left him.

When Red made his way to the lower shelf of the river, he shouted up, even louder, “I’M D-DOWN HERE!” In hopes his voice might reach a few more flowers.

“okay!” Pap responded in a voice begging the question, ‘why are you telling me this?’

Having now trapped himself on the lower level, Red looked around for something to do. He doubted there was anything good in the few loose piles of garbage gathered on the shore here, but he decided to look through them anyway, since he didn’t have any other options. Maybe an hour into digging, he heard a curse, some shuffling, and a splash from up above him.

“shit!”

He turned and looked up to see Papyrus crouched at the top of the waterfall, arm outstretched like he’d lost something. He didn’t look in danger, but he did look worried. Red trailed his eyes after the panicked gaze into the river, to see a small, plastic bag bobbing away in the waves a floor below, on Red’s level. It was headed straight for the abysmal drop.

“I’m on it!” Red called up, not tearing his eyes away from the bag. He splashed into the river nearby, his steps dramatically slowed by the drag of water as he entered the cool stream. It was clear Red wouldn’t be able to catch up to the bag on foot.

“Red! wai-“

So, Red took a shortcut out to the bag. He popped out of the exit, perhaps not quite where he intended. He looked around disoriented. The river was deeper here. The current flooded into his chest, but Sans planted his feet against the forceful push. He spun until he found the bag. It was headed towards the drop.

It was close, though.

Red dove onto the bag, snatching it. He rolled once beneath the waves, but without heavy boards to shove him down like last time, he easily righted himself. He stood up once again, just two feet from the ledge. Planting his feet firmly into the slick stone below to ground himself against the strength of the current.

“I g-got it!” He called up to Papyrus waving the bag above his head energetically. Toothy grin stretching wide on his face in triumph. Irrevocably pleased he’d managed to save something from the ledge this time. He started wading against the current towards the shore.

The taller skeleton disappeared off the top of the ledge and reappeared at the edge of the shore next to Sans. Red grinned up at him clutching the prize close.

Papyrus didn’t say anything, but strode forward.

The smile fell from Red’s face as the larger skeleton approached. He loomed over Sans, his shadow blotting out the crystals in the cavern ceiling overhead. Red froze before fully exiting the river, cool water still lapping around his ankles. Papyrus’ arms snaked out of his hoodie pockets as he bent his long, lanky form over the wet, little skeleton.

Red flinched. Eyes squeezing shut for the coming blow.

A skull tapped against his forehead. No other attack followed.

Tentatively, Red opened an eye to peer at Papyrus. His skull was so close to Sans’.

Big hands rubbed affectionately into the sides of his head and Red was forced to shut his eyes again. They jostled him, ruffling his coat. The skull pressed further into his forehead.

“Good job, buddy,” Paps teased. Congratulating him in a sleepy drawl.

It took a few seconds for the gesture to register: It was the exact same thing he’d done to Papyrus before, when he’d eaten that first bite of honey.

“Sh-Sh-Shut it!” He shot back, with more volume than fire. A deep crimson lit across Red’s face, but Pap held his head still, pressing their skulls together.

He was suddenly painfully aware of how he’d been treating this fully grown Papyrus for the past few days; leaning on him, touching him, tucking him in, rubbing his head, nuzzling his skull.

And he went very, very red.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter: Papyrus really doesn’t have his shit together.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> Random Side Notes:  
> They grow up so fast! *sniffle*  
> This one was TRIPLE the normal length! I apologize for the wait and I’m sorry for the long, long wall of text. I hope this chapter doesn’t feel too meaningless right now! It’s actually kinda important in the grand scheme of things. ;3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  CHANGE LOG:  
> Chapter 3: Minor updates  
> Chapter 4: Minor updates  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> Mandatory Recap:  
> It was a long ass chapter.  
> Ya’ll missed a lot if you skipped it. :p  
> Red was turning…well, red.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

His soul pounded loudly. His cheeks burned beneath the ivory palms.  His eyes darted elsewhere, but Papyrus was the only thing in his vision. Red knew this face. He stared at the familiar features from an angle he never saw them from, sputtering for words to say.  He felt weak in the knees.

No, literally. What little was left of his magic shot straight to his cheeks, dying his face a rosy crimson beneath the palms and sapping the strength from the rest of him. He wouldn’t be able to stand like this. He needed to get Papyrus to let go of him. Quickly.

His eyes snapped up. Hot, red embers glaring disapproval into Papyrus’ too-close irises. His jaw trembled, but he couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t tell him off.

_He couldn’t tell Boss no._

Pap only seemed entertained by this. “ok. ‘ya don’t have to pout,” he hummed mockingly calm. A smile rising on his mouth.

Red recognized another phrase he’d said to Papyrus this week. Not Boss, _Papyrus_. …Right before he’d tucked a grown man into bed.

He sputtered again, for entirely different reasons.

That meant Papyrus remembered everything that had happened the past few days. Every tease. Every pat. Every embarrassing motion he’d never perform in front of another. It was so easy to forget himself when he thought he was alone! Yet if he remembered everything so vividly, that meant Red had been _consciously_ ignored for the past week.

He batted away Papyrus’ mock affections with an arm, throwing the hands bitterly away from him. He hastily stumbled out of the other’s reach. The world twisted unsettlingly at the sudden movement. The scene spinning as it had the last time he’d tried to teleport on such low magic reserves. He felt sick, but he knew he didn’t have any energy to get sick with. He held it back.

Papyrus smiled in an annoyingly victorious manner after Red’s outburst. Studying the smaller as his crimson eyes stared up bewildered, almost offended, at the tall skeleton. He reminded calmly, “and yet you were so _friendly_ before.”

It was so natural, Red couldn’t tell if it was an honest complaint or a jab. Was he being scolded? Was this a punishment? Revenge?

“ _Noted_ ,” Red’s eyes sunk to the floor. He huddled into himself like he always did, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. “I won’t do it anymore, ok?”

“whoa, hey,” Pap struggled out, the tease dispersed from his voice. “are you ok?” Rapidly approaching him, his hand outstretched like he was going to grab him again. He knew this was Pap. He knew it, but the way his heels clicked against the stone, like the sharp heel of a boot, sent a panicked flinch through him.

“ _Fine_ ,” Red growled viciously, halting the other where he stood. Pap only meant well, he knew, but Red was so unprepared for this. To have Boss’ clone towering over him. Grabbing him. It was so much easier to tell them apart when he hadn’t been moving. When he could think, ‘Boss would never do this.’

Immediately, he felt shitty for even thinking it. This is what he’d wanted. He’d tried so desperately for this. He’d just gotten Papyrus to move.

Why was he touching him, anyway? Pap shouldn’t be touching him; not after what he’d done to him yesterday. The guilt sank thick in his core. They should both have reasons for not wanting to be near the other. This could be mutually beneficial. _Should_ be.

“Just… d-don’t touch me.” The offer came out so much more pitifully than he’d intended.

Pap’s hands slipped back into his orange hoodie pockets. When Red glanced back up, Pap didn’t look relieved at the prospect to not have to touch him. He looked stricken. A frown on his mandible. His usually lax smile gone.

Fuck, he’d hurt him.

“ok. promise. i won’t,”  He wrestled a grin back onto his face.

Red didn’t want a promise. Promises were easily broken. He’d wanted a deal. They were practical. Because when someone expected to get something in return; they were less likely to screw you over. “I don’t trust promises,” Red muttered under his breath. They couldn’t be trusted because people couldn’t be trusted.

He thought he’d said it quietly enough, but Pap had heard him. “me neither,” He said. His smile softened as he looked down at the little bundled skeleton.

Red blinked stupidly back at him, words and retorts stolen. Did Papyrus not trust others? He snorted back a condescending laugh at the ridiculous thought. “Didn’t peg ‘ya as the type!”

Running over a list of Papyrus’ other actions didn’t give him that impression at all. He kept a stranger in his house. He had eaten food from Red this morning. He’d blindly followed him somewhere unknown -into Waterfall, where there were piles and piles of dust everywhere. Were there not red flags going off in his head? Alarm bells or any sense of caution at all?

He shook his head free of thoughts he was trying desperately not to fall prey to. “Com’mon. The next trap’s this way,” Red pointed down a path to their right.

He took off between the piles of filth. Blue florescent flowers chimed in the wind. The echoes were quieter now, amplifying the sloshing of Sans’ soaked sneakers with every step. Papyrus followed behind each wet footstep, leaving a fair breadth between the two huddled forms. True to his word.

Yet he was _still_ blindly following him somewhere unknown. Pap clearly wasn’t the type to distrust others, was he? Papyrus didn’t distrust him, did he? The thought sank in his soul with the guilt. He had every reason not to.

 “Red?” Papyrus broke a silence that would have settled between them. “…why did you jump in after that bag?”

Red was suddenly torn from his thoughts. Remembering he was still holding onto the bag he’d gotten for Papyrus. He stopped abruptly, turning around.

“’Ya wanted it, didn’t ‘ya?” That seemed reason enough for Red, though Papyrus looked stumped by the answer.

“I owe ‘ya,” He clarified. Hoping to also infer he didn’t have to distrust him; he didn’t plan to screw him over. He owed him. No loopholes. No lies. If Pap wanted something; he’d get it for him. Simple as that. The stocky skeleton handed the plastic bag out towards his taller counterpart as if completing a bargain. “Take it. It’s ‘yers.”

Pap regarded the bag, confused. Red tensely held it up, like he was feeding some wild animal or something. He felt more nervous than he should be. Soul thudding against his reformed ribs. Again taking interest in his shoes. If Papyrus trusted him at all, he’d take it. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t. Papyrus had no reason to trust him.

A still, damnably silent moment passed by.

His chest practically swelled with warmth when a skeletal hand grabbed it. Red swallowed down his anxiety. Plastic crinkled as the bag transferred owners. His crimson eyes shot up. Papyrus accepted the offer, smiling. “thank you.”

Red decided he was going to stop trying to find a response to that phrase. It was bad for his soul, especially after so long without any response to such offerings. Despite everything, Papyrus trusted him at least marginally. Red was torn between pride that his efforts had managed to earn him some measure of trust in Papyrus’ eyes and concern for the obvious lack of survival skills the other exhibited.

By all means, he _shouldn’t_ trust him. But he did.

 “So, what’s in it, anyway?” Red tested their tedious bond.

“nyeh heh,” Pap laughed nervously, pulling a small white box out of the plastic. Warily holding the container up for the soaking wet skeleton to see. There was a hint of orange tinting Papyrus’ sharp cheekbones. “it’s just a pack of cigarettes. that’s why i was trying to tell you not to go after it.”

Red blinked at the box.

“it was actually pretty impressive you caught it!” he added. Pap continued to smile down at him. He sounded happy to have it, but hesitant that Red had to fetch it. “almost forgot you could teleport,” he added, puzzled at the end.

Red was staring more at Papyrus’ face than the pack of cigarettes held up before him. This smile was different than the other smiles he’d worn. Not the fake one as he had eaten the soup or the pestering smirk as he had teased him. This smile was shy, but honest.

He felt a bit dizzy as his magic betrayed him again. If Papyrus was happy with it that was more than enough reason for Red to chase it down. After a week of studying his emotionless face, it was plenty enough of a reward to see genuine joy on it. His soul twisted in his chest. Red glanced off to the side. Avoiding him. Once again struggling to meet that familiar face.

He had to remind himself: This wasn’t Boss who was praising him.

 “’Ya like cigarettes, don’t’cha?” He mumbled.

He had to, his whole room smelled like them.

“yeah,” Pap deadpanned on automatic.

“Then, it’s fine. They’re yours,” Red concluded. He didn’t stick around for the phrase he couldn’t answer. Instead, he started walking away, shoes sloshing with each step.

He knew Papyrus followed him, but he didn’t look back. He heard the tall form easily catch up to him, pacing his slower steps. Pap was next to him again. A little closer to his side than he had been before. Red felt self-conscious guilt as he warily measured their distance. Considering recent events, Pap shouldn’t be anywhere near him.

Was this mercy?

His eyes locked onto his old, wet sneakers as they made their way through the cavern. He shifted further away from Papyrus as they walked. Before he knew it; Papyrus had shifted the same distance back towards him. Red tried several more times to sneak some distance between them, but every time Papyrus seemed to close it out of habit, like he was used to matching his pace. Red took two, wide stokes discreetly to the right, Papyrus veered the same distance his way alongside him, even though his naturally longer gait should have offset them. On and on it repeated. Pap didn’t even seem aware he was doing it.

He couldn’t escape.

Red eventually gave up. Allowing Papyrus to keep whatever distance he wanted between them as long as they weren’t touching.

Red steered them to the next trap, making his way out into the river when they arrived. Eager to escape Papyrus’ side. Conscious of how he couldn’t quite focus on the pathway of slick stones in the poor state of his vision. It hadn’t improved much since he’d taken the shortcut to grab the bag. His head hadn’t cooled down either. The stones rocked and churned as he tried to pin them for landings. Each jump a risk of falling. Somehow, he survived skipping along the rocks that jutted out of the river.

Red stooped at the trap and began clearing it of debris. His vision was still rocking, so he had to squint, pulling some objects up close to his face to inspect before he tossed it, making the whole ordeal a slow process. It was hard to stay alert. He even felt like he was nodding off for brief seconds at a time. Papyrus crouched down right next to him.

A little closer than before.

Their arms were almost touching, but Red refused to look at him. Choosing to focus on work, he hurriedly excused himself with the notion it didn’t make any logical sense for both of them to work on the same section of the trap. So, Red shuffled away, further down the dam, towards the other side to toil away. Squelching and sloshing in his soaked attire as he moved his limbs.

After a few minutes, Papyrus spoke up.

“you’re pretty wet now. you don’t want to change?” The voice sounded lazy and nonchalant. An amused hint at the edges.

Red didn’t look up. It was more relaxing to listen to the voice than place a face to the words. He continued sorting through the day’s catches. “Water never hurt anyone.” Unless it tossed you over a ledge, or something.

With the afterthought, the statement was a lot less convincing than he’d planned.

“speaking from experience?” Red could almost hear the raised eyebrow.

He didn’t want to give a real answer. He didn’t want Papyrus to know he’d actually fallen over the ledge yesterday. Nor did his guilt want Papyrus acting so familiarly towards him. He didn’t deserve it. He deserved to get hit or screamed at. And why hadn’t he yet? Without much thought, he responded naturally.

“A _boat_ load. They really _sunk_ ed.”

“nyeh heh,” Pap laughed softly. “So, you really are the _punny_ type?” He concluded.

Not the response he intended. The reply threw Red for a loop. He fumbled with the garbage he was shifting.

But that was right. This Papyrus wouldn’t back away from jokes like his would. This Papyrus wouldn’t strike out at a jest. He was so used to using puns to fall back on when he didn’t want someone to question him further. Puns were for when he wanted someone to get mad, give up on him, and leave him alone. It was so unusual to get a response that wasn’t several decibels louder.

But not here. Every joke here had been met with another. Hadn’t it? He relaxed into his favorite pastime.

“You tryin’ ‘ta pro _joke_ me?” Red feigned offense.

“never. i just thought you’d be interested in a bit of _pun._ ”

Red barked a short, derisive laugh. “’Ya just used that one. ‘Ya can’t use it twice.”

Pap sounded baffled. “are you saying it doesn’t _count_?”

“Just sayin’ you should check ‘yer _math._ I think I already _one_.”

Pap snickered. A pleasant sound off to his left. “it was a contest?”

“A pun-off.”

“against the guy’s whose last words were almost, ‘don’t be so _sternum._ it turned out fine?’” Papyrus shook his head sadly in Red’s peripheral. “-think i’m fucked.”

Red did laugh at that. A hearty sound he didn’t know could come straight from his core.

“and he finally smiles again!” Paps cheered with a calm, pleased tone.

The sentence had the adverse effect of wiping the smile off of Red’s face as his head snapped up to look at Pap.

The tall skeleton was crouched on his feet, the stream rolling beneath him. One arm draped across one of his raised knees. The other arm curled, hand tucked between his chin and shoulder. Skull idly laid to the side against the orange hoodie. Two lazy eyes fixed on the small skeleton next to him. Pap smiled wider when Red met his eyes.

That comfortable gaze reminding Red acutely of the adoring stare he’d given Sans when he thought he was his brother.

Sans didn’t inspect the catch that slipped out of his hands into the river.

“oh! and he looks at me, too!” Pap said sarcastically. Smile still in place, unwavering.

Red didn’t know how long he’d been under that scrutiny. He wasn’t used to the attention. The affection. He felt magic rush to his head again. No doubt a tint on his cheeks because his vision took a dive. This skeleton was bad for his health. He stood abruptly, which was probably a poor move when his magic reserves were dipping, most of it going to his face in embarrassment again. Red spun, putting his back to Papyrus. Only a little shaky on his knees.

“I think this one’s done. Let’s g-go to the next one,” He murmured.

Maybe he could figure out how to separate them at the next trap. Maybe he could assign Papyrus to one and go somewhere else like before.

 “i don’t think this one’s done…” Papyrus interrupted doubtingly.

That was a good plan.

“It’s f-fine. Let’s go,” Red insisted walking away. The rocks were swaying again. “We started late. We’ve got a lot to do.”

“how much is left?” Pap inquired, a complaint in the tone.

“We’ve s-still got to hit the other traps and we should set up another before the days done.” Red started hopping across the seemingly shifting rocks. He heard Papyrus pursue him. “We haven’t even sorted through any of the piles that were already here, either.”

“we should stop for the day.”

“If ‘ya wanna be a lazy ass go back to the house.” That would save Red the trouble of figuring out what to do with him.

“i meant _you_ should stop for the day.”

Red snorted.

“you’re wobbling,” Papyrus noted audibly. Hovering close behind the unsteady skeleton.

It wasn’t until he’d said it aloud that Red noticed he was. Each step followed by a significant sway of his torso. His vision seemed bleary again, too –on top of the shifting.

“Don’t mind it,” Red answered, steering them towards their next destination. He hadn’t realized he’d gotten this bad, but he couldn’t give in now, even if he’d hit the last of his magic. Papyrus had no sufficient survival skills. He had to keep him safe. He had to get him food.

He tried to take each step slowly, but teetered to the side as he skipped to one stone. His arms shot out to his sides to try and regain his balance, but the world tipped anyway. From the corner of his eyes, he saw it.

Papyrus reached for him. He was going to grab him. He was going to save him.

Red instinctively jerked his arm away from Papyrus’ reach at the last second, but he preferred this anyway. He would rather opt to fall to the cold water below than allow Papyrus to touch someone who’d forced themselves upon him. Since the numskull didn’t seem capable of making those sound judgement calls himself.

It wasn’t nearly deep enough to submerge Red here. So, he landed crudely on his rump against the rough stone. He sat in the water, a shallow pool about his waist. That hardly bothered him. It wasn’t like his clothes weren’t already wet. What did bother him was the look on Papyrus’ face.

His mask of ease was completely gone. Face tense, like he’d been stung. As if he was the one who slammed against the rocks instead. A hint of pain creeping into the frown. Hand still held out in front of him where he’d missed Red’s sleeve.

 “I’m ok, b-bud.” Red rushed to settle him.

“no,” Papyrus corrected him in a stern voice. Slowly retracting his hand, clenching it tightly into a fist. “you’re not.” The towering form crouched. Pap offered the same hand again for Red to take, uncurling an upturned palm halfway between them.

Red glanced at it briefly. He was doing it again. He couldn’t understand why Papyrus was willing to touch him –not after he’d attacked him. Guilt devoured his soul.

Whether he’d been successful in getting Papyrus to move or not; he knew he’d wronged this innocent Papyrus. Surely, Pap had hated that moment; Red forcing himself against him. He’d even said he smelled. So, why wasn’t he being punished for it? Papyrus should be mad. Yet every action Pap had made since he started moving had been generous towards Red. Offering to join him. Eating his detestable food. Matching his pace as they walked, even though his long gait could easily put him ahead. Obliging requests to sit at the table or work on the trap. Idle conversation. And here it was again…

A hand offered in assistance.

Red didn’t take it.

“I’m f-fine.” In fact, he pushed himself further away from Papyrus instead. The smaller struggling to his own feet only when he was sure the ground was solidly planted beneath him, avoiding Papyrus’ outstretched hand altogether. The stocky skeleton quickly clambered back onto the stone pathway.

The bonehead looked like he might offer to touch him again, if only to help Red steady himself.

“R-really,” Red interrupted before he could even suggest it. “I’m ok.”

Pap didn’t look pleased by his reassurance at all. The taller’s face fell even further at the words.

Red turned away, continuing his perilous march out to the dam. He didn’t look back. He probably couldn’t spare the focus to, either. The rocks hadn’t stilled. “Com’mon. Next traps over here,” Red started leading away on shaky knees.

“com’ere.”

He was yanked back by the hood of his jacket. The world twisted in a nauseous way as he was pulled into a shortcut. The Dump’s littered pathway blipped out of view as the void took him. It was only the briefest moment of confusion in the abyss before he was back in the living room, stumbling to find solid ground beneath his feet again.

Papyrus was holding firmly onto his hood. Yanking the cloth up high above Red so the fabric bunched around his head. It was damp and uncomfortable.

“What gives?” Red snapped bitterly, held hostage by his jacket. Even though Papyrus wasn’t technically touching him, he felt betrayed. He tried to maneuver his hands behind him to free his hood, but it proved too difficult with his failing coordination. In fact, holding his coat up may have been doing him a favor, as it kept him upright. Steady.

Red wasn’t entirely sure he could manage to stand without the help.

“the traps will still be there in the morning,” Pap said, steering Red onto the sofa. Forcing him to take a seat.

The second he dropped the hood from his hand, Red collapsed onto the couch. It felt great to be off of his feet. He sunk into the lumpy cushions, but glared up at Papyrus all the same. The taller was staring down at him. Intelligent pupils under half-lidded eyes.

“Red,” the other tested, “how do you feel right now?”

“Angry. Don’t drag me around.”

“i meant physically,” Pap corrected.

“I told ‘ya. _I’m fine_ ,” Red insisted.

“you’re not ‘ _fine_ ’,” Papyrus sighed, crouching down in front of Red, right between where his legs were draped over the edge of the couch. Blocking him in. “you’ve been waking up every day later and later, you know? did you even notice?” He took the smaller’s skull in his hands. A skeletal thumb probed around his eye socket. Red froze stiff at the contact.

Promises were broken so easily.

“did you sleep?” Pap sounded exasperated.

“Sure, I did.” He’d passed out on the floor, maybe, but he’d slept.

“everyday?” Pap stressed.

“Yeah.” That hand was still wandering near his eye. He instinctually leaned his head away from it.

“did you eat?”

“S-sure, I did.” Red tried to glance away from those accusing orange eyelights, but two hands pulled his head firmly back into place when he turned his head.

“Red…” Papyrus ventured cautiously, brow furrowing, “ _when_ was the last time you ate?”

Red felt a nervous smile tug his permanent grin. He could feel cool sweat beading on his brow. Those orange eyes boring into him.

“have you eaten _at all_?”

“Sure, I d-did. I ate that thing ‘ya made me.” Red regretted saying it the second it left his mouth.

“and nothing else since,” Pap finished in conclusion. Disappointment etched onto every tense line on his face. He sighed heavily, his skull dropped along with the sigh, skeletal hands slipping from Red’s cheeks. “wait here.”

Papyrus was upset.

He’d lied to him and Papyrus was upset.

The lanky skeleton stood up and the orange hoodie disappeared into the light from the kitchen. Red was left sitting on the couch in the dark, hands wringing themselves worriedly as he waited for the other to return. Considering all possible escape routes in his absence. He wouldn’t be able to teleport. Not as he was now. He could go for the front door. There was also a window he could make it out of.

He didn’t decide fast enough. A few short clangs and Papyrus was back. Long legs stopped in front of Red, who didn’t raise his head enough to look him in the eye, keeping his head respectfully bowed. The tall form held an item up in front of the small skeleton for him to take.

Red glanced nervously up at Papyrus, who simply patiently eyed him back beneath his lazy sockets, until Red caved. His eyes sunk back to the offering, grasping the metal handle in his little hand.

It was a spoon.

Pap stepped over him, scooping something off the floor as he flopped onto the couch immediately next to Red, ignoring the open seat at the other side of the couch to take the middle. Way too close. A glass jar was thrust into Red’s other hand. Papyrus slouched forward, resting his hands on his knees as he watched Red stare at the items dumbfounded.

Pap tapped the jar of honey. “you better eat all of it,” he stretched his long limbs out and sank to the back of the couch. Draping his arms across the back of the sofa, indirectly draping an arm around Red if he didn’t stay hunched up at the front of his cushion –which he did. Pap opened one eye to glance over at the stiff skeleton, before closing it again. “i’m staying here until you finish it.”

Slowly, Red turned the glass jar over in his hand, making no move to open the container. This was what had gotten Papyrus to first react to something. This was something Papyrus actually ate.

“D-do ‘ya like h-honey?” Red asked, huddling into himself.

“yeah?” Came the answer.

Red held the precious jar with both hands. “I d-don’t want this.”

Papyrus hummed in response, making no move to retrieve it, still spread on the couch far too close to the other. “’don’t be picky’, right? those were your words.”

“S-still,” Red mumbled. It was a weak defense. He could admit it. He was hungry. He wasn’t _well_ , but he couldn’t bring himself to eat this.

“’if you don’t eat it, you won’t grow big and strong’,” Papyrus teased after a few minutes of nothing. A hand tapped the back of Red’s head and he flinched. “you could use it, shorty.” He rubbed the cracked and rough bone of Red’s skull and it jostled him. This time, he was the one who didn’t have the strength to steady himself. He glared at Papyrus, hating how this situation had reversed.

He scowled at his lounging companion. “I swear, if ‘ya keep quoting me –“

Pap raised his hands halfway, in a lax, leisurely, and altogether unsatisfying manner, in surrender at the threat. Closing his eyes, and laying his head back to the sofa in sarcastic defeat. Clearly, he didn’t think Red could do him any harm in his current state. “no quotes. just eat. please.”

He readjusted his arms across the back of the couch, while Red turned his scowl back to the jar in his hands. Twenty minutes passed and he didn’t even open the container, just glared into the translucent substance.

“M-maybe I could just eat the next thing we find and s-save this for now?” He suggested.

Without a pause, “eat it now or i won’t eat anything we find later.” Pap stated smoothly.

Red had a feeling he’d follow-through, too.

Reluctantly, He popped the top off of the jar. Red dipped the metal spoon into the barely dented honey and slipped a bite between his fangs.

He scrunched his face slightly.

It was sweet.

He wasn’t a fan of the taste, but it was _food._ Food he hadn’t eaten in so long. He scarfed down two more bites and felt terrible for eating the last of their rations, but he couldn’t stop himself either. He shoveled half the jar into his face before he finally slowed to a normal speed.

Despite the aloof way he was seated, he knew Papyrus was watching him intently from the side.

“…how long had it been since you’d eaten before i made you eat that snow?” He ventured.

Red shoved another bite into his mouth to fill it because he didn’t know the answer to that. Which was probably the wrong answer.

Papyrus didn’t question him further in the following minutes as Red finished off the jar. Taking each bite with care. Savoring the flavor. He felt both better and worse as the contents of the jar dwindled.

His breath stilled, hollowly staring down at what he’d done. An empty container held loosely in his hand. The last of their rations gone.

“good job! good job!” Pap teased, taking the empty jar from Red’s hands. Quoting him _yet again_. This time, Red had the energy to elbow the taller sharply in the side before he could pat his head in mockery. He hopped off the couch on much sturdier legs after doing so.

“ack! ok, ok. wait,” Pap begged. “don’t leave yet.”

“What now?” Red growled, turning back towards the lanky form sprawled across the couch.

“we had a deal, remember?”

Red looked at him incredulously. Was he calling him on the elbow? But Pap had broken the no touch pact first. Although …elbowing him had technically been a violation.

“you said you’d take a shower once we got back from the Dump,” He wheezed, rubbing his rib. “i’ll take one, too.”

Red scowled at him. “I wasn’t done. I’m g-going back out.”

“noooo,” Papyrus groaned. “just stay here.”

“There’s still a lot to do.”

“it’s late. the traps will still be there tomorrow.”

He had a point, but mostly it was the pleading look in his eye that did Red in. He’d do anything for Pap if it kept him alive. More so if it gained his trust. Especially if it kept him happy. Damn. He _couldn’t_ get out of Pap’s pace. He couldn’t escape.

“Fine,” He sighed, eyes on the floor. Hands slipping into his coat pockets. “I’ll take the bath and stay here.”

“great!” Red knew Pap was smiling his lazy smirk again even though his eyes were glued to the carpet. “i’ll show you were it is.”

Red already knew where it was, but he didn’t say anything as Papyrus rolled onto his feet. Didn’t mention that this was his house as Pap showed him to the wooden door beneath the steps. Didn’t point out that he’d already been staying here for a week as Papyrus demonstrated how the bathtub worked.

The timid skeleton just shuffled along after the other, eyes down. Following his lead.

Pap turned back to him. “got it?” He asked over the roar of the water pouring into the tub.

Red shook his head in affirmation, but didn’t look up. He was inspecting the dirty tile of the bathroom floor. Watching the curved, old victorian tub fill with water. Keeping his eyes low enough not to meet Papyrus’ face, but he still saw Pap rise back to his full height, hands slipping into his hoodie pockets.

“alright, then,” Pap continued in the absence of a proper response. “i’ll leave you to it.”

The orange hoodie passed Red and shut the door behind him. Leaving Red alone in the small, narrow bathroom.  The bathtub to one side, the sink and seldom used toilet on the other. It was really just for guests.

Like the bathroom in his home, it was a bit dirty. The once white tub and tile were water-stained over the long years of use, but this bathroom was decorated unlike his which was purely functional. There was a blue fuzzy rug on the floor. A colorful polka dot mug sat at the sink with two toothbrushes in it. A small wicker clothes hamper shoved beneath it. On the back wall hung a crudely drawn stick figure family. A tall one in orange. A small one in blue. In front of what could be a rendition of their cottage. It was framed as if it was a much more valuable painting than it appeared. The lighting was better, too. This room had proper light fixtures instead of the single, flickering, dangling bulb that lit his own.

Red waited for several moments. Straining his hearing against the filling tub. It wasn’t until he heard footsteps leave the door that he started stripping off his wet clothes. He dropped his borrowed shirt and other soaked garments to the tile, instead of placing them in the hamper. All while the water in the tub rose. He turned the knob, stopping the water, once it had filled. He lowered his chipped, cracked, and scarred ivory bones into the bath.

Papyrus had picked a steamy, comfortable temperature for him. It felt soothing against his bare bones. Red eased into the warmth after running around the past week in damp clothes through the snow. After days of sleeping without blankets or sheets. He felt like he was nodding off when a sharp knock at the door snapped him alert.

Two sharp, red bones popped into existence above him, instinctively aimed at the door. At call, poised and ready. Trained on the entrance. Red sank into the tub until just his sockets were above the water. Papyrus let himself in without waiting for an answer.

“sorry,” Pap said, fumbling around the wall, sockets squeezed shut. He bumped into things as blind as a bat. Carefully treading into the unknown. It took a second for the behavior to register.

Of all people, Papyrus was concerned for his decency.

That had never happened. The awkward sight before him couldn’t be farther from the Papyrus he knew. “i brought you a towel and some new clothes.”

Red blinked a few times, not sure what he’d been expecting to happen.

He let the bones dissipate.

“Ok,” Red raised his head just enough to speak, watching in disbelief as Papyrus stumbled blindly around his own bathroom. The lanky orange form felt along the wall, almost tripping on Sans’ discarded clothes, until he finally found the sink with all the grace of a newborn fawn on ice-skates. He discarded the new clothes into it. Then, he lowered himself slowly, feeling along the floor for the clothes he’d tripped over. Always missing them by the smallest margin.

Red grew more uncomfortable every second his nudity had company. Sinking into the suds to hide himself.

Pap was spending way too long searching for the damp clothes in all the wrong places. Red’s eyes were locked onto his visitor. Every second growing in annoyance. And then, Pap banged his head on the sink in his blindness. A hollow _clunk_ resounding around the room. At the sight of his usually tall and intimidating brother being so clumsy, Red couldn’t help but allow an amused snort to escape him. It was like Papyrus _was_ still just a kid and the bones he wore were just too big for him.

Papyrus smirked at the sound, eyes screwed shut, clumsily sprawled across the floor. “…hey,” he started, smile curling, “do you know why the bug fell off the toilet seat?”

Of all the times to be cracking jokes -Red hadn’t intended the laugh as an invitation _to stay_.

He hadn’t intended to laugh at all.

 “Because he was pissed off!” Red finished for him, growling through his embarrassment and amusement. He gathered enough courage to lean over the side, quickly sliding his pile of clothes into Papyrus’ wandering hands. “Get ‘outta here!”

Pap scooped them up, “sorry, bud. did i _scrub_ you the wrong way?”

“Get lost!” Red huffed.

Pap took his time, fumbling awkwardly to find the door and shut it behind him.

Red sank his chipped bones back into the warm water, dangling his hands over the side. He suddenly felt exhausted all over again. Shaking his head slowly in disbelief after his visitor.

This Papyrus was a fool. A silly, stubborn, fascinatingly boneheaded fool.

 

Red emerged from the bathroom an hour later, clean and stench free. Papyrus was waiting for him, sprawled across the couch. He looked over at the smaller skeleton, who was tugging and fidgeting at his new clothes.

“so they fit?” Pap asked.

“I dunno if ‘ _fit_ ’ is the right word…” Red grumbled, inspecting his outfit.

He tugged at a too-large, grey tank that would have dangled past his knees if he hadn’t tucked it into the elastic band of the supposed, dark, basketball “shorts”, which sat more like pants on his legs. They draped over his feet, obscuring them from view. A collection from Papyrus’ own wardrobe, no doubt. At least they were comfortable, if not much else.

Papyrus just shrugged non-committally. “they’ll work as pajamas.”

“Yeah? Guess so.” He supposed they would. Not that he normally bothered with things like pajamas. Sorting his clothes into nightwear and daywear were hardly on his list of things to do. He’d always just slept in whatever he had on. Which brought him to his next question.

“Where’s my coat?” He felt bare without it.

“it’s drying upstairs with your other clothes,” Pap made a lackadaisical gesture upstairs. “check it if you want. i didn’t steal it from you.” The bonehead yawned largely, unhinging his jaw. Completely unguarded.

“It’s fine,” Red grumbled.

Red supposed he could go without his coat for one night. This outfit wasn’t very warm, especially not with how baggy it was, but one night wouldn’t kill him. He pulled his eyes away from the second floor back towards Papyrus.

The lanky skeleton rolled off the couch, clutching a towel into his side, as he rose to his full height. He towered over Red. Shadow looming over the smaller form, but Red didn’t back away or avert his gaze. He was feeling less intimidated by this Papyrus every hour that slipped by.

He already knew he was harmless, sitting at level one, but to see it play out for a whole day was something else. The differences really starting to click home.

Paps smiled a goofy grin down at Red who was staring defiantly up at him. “you really do look tiny without your coat!”

“’Ya really do smell worse up close,” Red shot back.

Pap just laughed his way into the bathroom, passing Red and his insult unharmed. He shut the door behind him. He heard the water turn on as Pap held up his end of their bargain. Red relaxed, staring over his shoulder in wonder at the wooden door.

A harmless fool.

Red made his way up the creaky steps into his room and flopped down onto the mattresses. It was much colder without his coat, but he already had a hot bath tonight. He’d had food tonight. He curled into himself on the bed with a full stomach, nestling his head gently against the plush cushioning. Allowing his breaths to rise in slow, steady intervals. Red was almost asleep when the door opened.

And he remembered this was not his room.

This was not his bed.

He’d been sleeping here so long, he’d forgotten this was all Papyrus’. Everything belonged to Papyrus. He didn’t have a bed or a room or a space of his own. Red shot off the mattress quickly. “S-s-sorry!”

_He’d stolen his bed._

Red didn’t know what he expected to happen. Not with this Papyrus. He was too unpredictable. So, Red didn’t run. He just smiled nervously up at the figure in the doorway.

Pap peered at him past a bundle of sheets.

“sorry,” he _apologized!_ “did i wake you up?”

Red glanced at the comfortable mattresses, then back at Pap’s completely not-angry face. “N-no?”

“good. I brought the blankets back up.” Papyrus started making the bed. It was sloppily done, clearly the work of someone who didn’t usually do housework, but it was nowhere near as messy as the tangle of sheets that had been on the bed when Red had first slept on it.

He realized he’d stalled too long, awkwardly standing off to the side as Papyrus did household chores. “I-I’ll be downstairs, then,” Red dismissed himself. He could take the sofa if Papyrus was sleeping up here. It wasn’t as comfortable, but he’d slept there before and it was fine. He’d slept on the floor before and he’d been fine, too.

“wait!” Pap called. “i’m not kicking you out. this is where you’ve been sleeping, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Red felt a bit embarrassed to admit it.

“then, why not stay? i brought you a pillow, too.” He held up a fluffy pillow as an offering, but then placed _two_ pillows onto the bed. “we can share,” He looked at Red expectantly.

Red stared at him slightly horrified. Was he inviting the person who had jumped him one night earlier to spend the night with him? Did he have any common sense? Any self-preservation at all?

“what?” Pap asked lightly. _Chuckling_ at his reaction. “it’s not that weird. the other bed caught on fire and the sofa isn’t all that comfortable. it’s kind of lumpy.”

Red opened his mouth to tell the other off, but he couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. The insults and the logic just sort of dried up in his throat. He was speechless for several seconds as he tried to word exactly how much of a _bad idea_ that was. Why would Papyrus even _suggest_ it?

Why _would_ Papyrus even suggest it?

Red snapped his fangs shut.

He hadn’t seen Papyrus sleep once without him being in the room. As far as he knew, Papyrus _didn’t_ sleep unless he was in the room. Maybe he wouldn’t sleep at all unless he was there. Red would do anything for Pap if it kept him alive. He needed to sleep. Especially since Red had just eaten the last of their rations.

Red searched the orange eyelights for some confirmation, but Pap had his lazy poker face set, waiting for an answer. There were still prominent bags under his sockets. A grown, functioning man wouldn’t say, ‘Please tuck me in! I’m a big baby and can’t sleep alone,’ as Red had once teased him before. The closest he’d probably get is an offer like this. If he turned it down, he wouldn’t be getting a second one. He couldn’t allow Papyrus’ health to fail. He glanced off to the side in defeat.

He was _never_ going to escape Papyrus’ pace.

“Y-yeah. Let’s share,” Red swallowed down all the screams about how much of a bad idea this was. Instead, he stalked back over to the piled mattresses and hopped onto the familiar bed. As the first one on the bed, he crawled over to the side closest to the wall to allow the other some room. He curled into himself, closely pressed to his side of the bed, with his back to the other, facing the wall. The mattress dipped behind him as a new weight joined him. Papyrus draped a blanket over the both of them to share. Red lightly curled his fists into the soft cloth.

The larger skeleton laid down behind him, facing the other way. Their backs were to each other, but the way they were curved to sleep on the mattress put them close to each other. Sans was hyper aware of where their spines were touching and how the other’s rhythmic breathing rose in steady presses against him.

Papyrus shuffled a bit, adjusting himself beneath the sheets. “goodnight, Red,” The big skeleton yawned sleepily.

“G-g’night, Pap,” He mumbled, curling into the warmth of the blankets.

His soul was drumming so loudly. It wasn’t until he was sure the breaths he felt against him were the steady pace of slumber that he finally fell asleep himself.

 

 

_Heat._

_It was so fucking hot. It was burning his bones. Flaring to life sharply inside his magic. And it was so, so uncomfortable. It was driving him mad. He needed it out._

_But Papyrus was here. Boss had come for him, like he always did._

_“Hnnn,” Sans whined a sharp breath out. Not caring how his saliva pooled out of his mouth onto the floor between heavy gasps._

_“Disgusting, as usual,” Boss stated flatly._

_But Sans could hardly hear him. The humming of his soul was too loud in his head. The thudding of his pulsing magic shrieking through his veins too deafening. All he felt were the short, quick ministrations scraping between his thighs as his legs twisted up with the growing fervor in his soul. He was trying to get the most friction against his pelvis that he could with his hands uselessly held behind him. His hips bucked along to the motions of the hand nestled between his legs. Holding his cock. Stroking him. He rubbed himself against it fervently._

_Frantically. Hungrily._

_Precum dribbled off his tip down the side. Sans closed his eyes. Mind foggy. Head swirling. All he could feel were the fingers clamped around his shaft. He shoved himself harder into their grasp. Forcing them to take him at a desperate pace. And it felt so good. So, so good._

_“Ha-Haah,” Sans panted out. Grinding his hips into Boss’ waiting fingers._

_The pleasure cut off abruptly-_

_A gloved hand dug sharply into his cock, talons down. Piercing the sensitive skin along his thick, red shaft. Sans bit off a scream as he felt the sharp claws dive through his magic. Impaling his slick dick in four painful punctures along its length. Magic and semen dripping down the leather. His cock, caught, twitching agonizingly beneath the hold._

_“Are you listening?”_

_Sans wanted to flail, but he wisely held still._

_“You better not conveniently forget that I’ve helped you with this._ Again,” _Boss hissed threateningly, squeezing down in anger. Crunching him. Crushing him._

_But Sans couldn’t give him the confirmation he wanted. All he could sputter was, “S-shit! F-fuck! Shit!” As his magic shattered between the gloved fist, unable to hold its shape against the pain. Sans spasmed into a ball on his side. As his hands were tied behind his back, he couldn’t really fight back or coax away the pain it left. He twitched involuntarily on the floor._

_Its absence, however, did nothing to still the thrumming of his soul. Blazing in its heat._

_“Weakling,” he heard Boss curse under his breath behind him. Shaking the excess magic off his gloved hand. Sans’ magic –like him- was fragile._

_Sans choked on several shaky breaths, gasping on his side. Unable to place the swirl of immense pleasure and incredible pain he was feeling. Conflicting with each other. Warring in his smoldering soul. This was one hell of a heat. The light wasn’t dimming in the slightest._

_Sans just knew he hurt. Throbbed._

_He whimpered._

_Boss_ tsk _ed, grabbing Sans roughly by the vertebrae on the back of his neck. “Get up,” He instructed, wrestling Sans onto his knees. Steering him roughly by the hold on his neck. He shoved Sans’ head to the floor once he was kneeling, so his pelvis was up. Face smashed against the floor. Boss was opting to finish this other ways than wait to coax his magic into a dick again._

_“Spread them.”_

_And Sans obliged. His legs slipped apart._

 

 

Red awoke to the smell of tobacco thick in the air. He gripped onto a soft, feathery feeling. The small skeleton rubbed his cracked skull into his pillow a few times, before he groggily opened his eyes, placing his surroundings. He was on his stomach now, sprawled across half of the mattress.

A tall, lanky skeleton was sitting on the edge of the bed like a chair. Long arms were propped behind him. A lit cigarette between his teeth as he peered his half-lidded eyes over his shoulder at the tiny skeleton rolling around in his bed. Trying to shake the sleep off.

“good morning, lazybones,” Papyrus dropped to his elbows, leaning in closer towards him, smiling. Smoke wafting from his jaw. The strong chin, the sharp cheekbones.

Red jerked away from him, trying to place the lazy drawl and lidded eyes.

“’Morning, P-pap?” he replied, testing the answer and hoping it stuck.

It did.

Papyrus didn’t correct the nickname.

Red sunk into the pillow, relaxing. Letting the tenseness in his bones slip away.

“not a morning person?” Pap chuckled, mistaking the flinch for an adverse reaction to the light instead of his face. Somehow, the morning light of the sole window knew how to _only_ shine directly on the stacked mattresses, perfectly in his eyes.

Red groaned in response.

Pap smirked over his shoulder, watching Red struggle against the brightness. The little skeleton stretched and curled his bones until they obeyed him again. Red wasn’t convinced he was ready to move yet, so he flopped back down into the pillow, head turned, furrowing his brow at Papyrus.

A harmless, innocent, level one Papyrus.

“’Ya better not set the bed on fire again,” He slurred.

“relax. what could go wrong?”

“’Ya could set the _only_ bed left on _fire_ ,” Red suggested, slowing the logic down into short, derisive words for the person he knew to use logic the least.

“you worry too much,” Pap snickered.

“’Ya don’t worry enough,” Red grumbled. Inviting his attacker into his bed. Giving away the last of his food. Letting a stranger stay in his house. Trying to fight someone fourteen levels above him. Even if he was just blindly optimistic, there had to be a limit to lack of common sense! Maybe he needed a lot more protection than Red could ever hope to offer.

Red fixed him with a glare, defensively clutching the pillow close. He liked this bed. It was comfortable. He wouldn’t let Pap set it ablaze.

Pap’s smirk only grew as he watched Red. “i promise i won’t burn the bed down.”

“Thought ‘ya didn’t like promises,” Red muttered into the pillow, eyes darting off to the side. He’d broken the last one pretty quickly, too.

Pap flopped down on the mattress next to Red. “no, but i think that’s one i can keep.” He took a long drag from his cigarette. “what about you?”

“I think ‘yer gonna burn the bed down.”

“no,” Pap laughed. “not that.”

Red looked at him quizzically.

“preferences,” Pap clarified. “things you like. things you don’t like.” He continued when Red didn’t look like he had any response. “i take it you like to sleep?”

Red snorted, still sprawled face down in his pillow. The question didn’t even deserve a response. He was starting to suspect Pap was only ranting on to keep him awake.

“favorite color?”

“Red,” Red quipped sardonically. He didn’t really have a favorite, but that was Boss’ favorite color, so it was good enough.

“right,” Pap laughed. “dumb question.” He pondered for a bit mulling over his thoughts. “favorite hobby?”

A ‘hobby’ would imply he did something for fun. He didn’t. Red shrugged into the mattress apathetically. “Jokes, maybe?”

“hm,” He hummed in acknowledgement. “how about food? got a favorite?”

Red’s mind immediately drifted to his favorite sour substance. His infatuation with mustard was something he liked to keep only between a few people. It was hard to be intimidating when you needed to if you’d been sucking on a yellow bottle, after all.

He noticed too late his lag in response was suspiciously long, Papyrus was smirking at him knowingly. A red stain crept onto his round face.

Papyrus chuckled, “is that a question to blush over?”

“A-anythin’s fine,” Red blurted out, squeezing the pillow defensively. “It’s all food.”

Papyrus didn’t press it. He mercifully dropped the subject, moving onto the next question.

“how about mornings?” He asked, gesturing towards the window.

Red foolishly followed the motion. He hissed against the light stinging his eyes, “No.”

Pap laughed. “didn’t think so. it’s actually well past noon.”

“Fuck. Say that first,” Red groaned, forcing himself upright into a seated position. The sleeve of the borrowed tank slipped down his arm. The garment, with all the extra baggage, had twisted itself around him in his sleep. Sitting poorly on his form. Red fixed the strap of sleeve and tried to spin the grey shirt around. “Are the clothes finished drying by now?”

“don’t know,” Pap said not getting up nor paying any attention. “didn’t check. they should be?”

“What did’ja do all mornin’, then?”

Pap shrugged. “slept. smoked. stayed here.”

So, what? Pap had just stayed in the room with him, watching him sleep? “’Ya coulda woken me up,” He growled, spinning to glare disdainfully at his companion.

“and wake up that angelic sleeping face of yours?” Pap teased. He bopped the last finger on his hand with the cigarette between Red’s eyes, “never.”

Red pinched his eyes closed, turning his head away from the gesture, as he hissed a sigh past his fangs, “Jackass.” He stood up, balancing on the mattresses. “Wake me up next time.” He hopped over Papyrus, off the bed.

“you don’t have to go out today,” Pap called after him as the little form stalked over to the door. “we could just stay in.”

“You stay here, then. I’m goin’ out.” As an afterthought, he added, “Where’s my clothes?”

“on the balcony.”

“On the -,” Red cut himself off because even he couldn’t finish such a stupid phrase. He stormed out of the room to the door at the end of the hall, leading to the balcony.

They were all there, as Papyrus had said, sloppily draped along a clothesline outside in the winter air. Icicles dangling off them. Red banged his head once on the doorframe in frustration.

He retrieved his borrowed shirt, jacket, and shorts from the clothesline. They were all frosted over, frozen stiff. Red shook them out, trying to get them to unfold, but to no avail. His heavy, winter coat was the only one that moved at all and it was still pretty well iced over. Red cursed under his breath and stuck the garments under his arm. He wasn’t surprised to turn and see Papyrus leaning against the door frame. A lazy poker face set on his skull as he watched Red fuss over the clothes.

He scowled at him. “Why did’ja put ‘em outside?”

Pap shrugged non-committally. “they were wet.” Was the only explanation he offered.

Red couldn’t tell if this was planned or if Papyrus just, truly, didn’t know better.

He scowled suspiciously over at the skeleton at the door. “Did’ja know they were gonna freeze?” But Pap’s lazy poker face didn’t crack. Of course he wouldn’t tell him. He shoved his way past Papyrus taking the clothes into the warmth inside. Even if they thawed, they’d be wet all over again.

Pap followed Red, close on his heels as he took them downstairs. He didn’t have to exert much effort to keep up with the smaller form.

“just stay here today,” he drawled.

“I ain’t stayin’ here,” Red said stubbornly. He took the frozen clothes into the bathroom. Papyrus close behind him.

“take a day off,” He groaned, slouching against the doorframe.

Red turned the faucet on the tub to a hot, steamy stream. “No.”

“what’s the worst that could happen?”

“We could starve ‘ta death.” He thawed his shorts under the hot water.

“it’s just one day.”

In one day they could lose a trap and all the food it had caught. It could get overloaded and fall over the side with the current. They weren’t fool-proof. They were shoddy constructions. That’s why they needed maintenance.

He thawed the shirt under the hot water.

Red grimaced. He could go out in Pap’s clothes. They were way too big on him. It was hard to walk. Not to mention, with how they hung down, they weren’t warm at all, but it was hardly like anyone was going to see him indecent.

“well?” Pap asked.

Red wrung the shirt out and left the two wet articles hanging over the side of the tub. Next, he rolled up his oversized pants into what resembled shorts. Then, he slipped the frosted coat on, shivering in the iced garment.

Pap looked surprised he put it on. “don’t you want to leave that one here to thaw, too?” He asked apprehensively.

“Nope,” Red said shortly, zipping up his winter coat. He shoved his way past Papyrus, headed towards the door. “It’ll thaw while I’m out.” He stepped out into the winter air and the difference hardly bothered him when his coat was the same temperature.

Pap rushed to follow him out the door, pacing his steps through the snow at his side. “this seems like a bad idea,” he stated wearily.

“I don’t want to hear that from you,” Red snorted, “’Ya haven’t made a single wise decision since I’ve met ‘ya.”

“me?” Pap asked, he sounded amused by this, “what about you?”

Red rose one finger, not looking back at him as he plowed ahead through the snow. “Last night, ‘ya froze all the clothes outside.”

“you’ve been overworking yourself,” Pap matched him, speeding up his pace as well in pursuit.

Red rose a second finger. “‘Ya set the bed on fire.”

“you didn’t eat.”

Red rose a third finger. “’Ya let a stranger into yer house.”

“you teleported a murderer into the house,” Pap countered.

Red threw both his hands up in the air in frustration. “’Ya fucked up with _me_ , then,” He growled.

“you?” Pap asked incredulously.

“Yeah, ‘Me.’” Red hissed. Did he really not see what was wrong with this? “’Ya just said I let a murderer into yer house. For fuck’s sake, ’Ya let me sleep in yer bed!”

“so?”

“So, I could’a killed ‘ya!” Red shouted.

“you didn’t,” Papyrus noted.

Stubborn, clueless brat. He didn’t even _know_ he’d had weapons trained on his face yesterday in the bathroom! “ _Multiple times,”_ Red stressed.

Pap chuckled a lazy drawl. Nothing more than amused. “you’re no killer.”

That was wrong. Papyrus was wrong. He _was_ a killer. And not just once either. He lived it, breathed it. It was how he’d survived. It was how Boss had survived. They were hardly level one anymore. He couldn’t even remember ever being such a low level like this bonehead. Red spun on him, halting their walk. “’Ya don’t know anythin’ about me,” Red rumbled dangerously low.

“you hate mornings,” Pap stated confidently.

Red blinked. He didn’t know how to answer such an unintelligent response.

“you look… _tiny_ without your coat.”

“I’m serious,” Red growled. Not this again.

“honey is not your favorite food, but i’ll figure out what you really like one of these days,” He pondered on.

“Papyrus.” Red angrily tried to call him back to the point of this conversation.

“you’ll take care of someone if you think they’re in trouble.” The bonehead didn’t even have his facts straight.

Not ‘ _someone’._ Only ‘ _Papyrus’_.

Red shook his head. Again, he was wrong. “I’m doin’ ‘ya favors. ’Ya only think that cause I owe ‘ya,” He corrected venomously. Falling back to his usual excuse.

“you _really_ don’t,” Pap insisted. Again.

“’Ya saved my life when ‘ya healed me,” Red said steadily, not backing down.

“and you saved mine.”

Red was tongue-tied.

“S’cuse me?” When had he ever-

“or did i imagine you taking a knife to the chest for me?” Pap laughed.

“That was- I mean- you also healed my leg,” Red mumbled, determined to end this banter with a debt owed. Determined to find a reason to be in Papyrus’ life. To validate a reason for staying here instead of going home.

“and you made sure i didn’t starve,” Pap surmised. “aren’t we even?”

His eyes sunk to a non-descript section of the snow in front of Papyrus’ feet. There had to be a reason he was staying here instead of going back where he belonged. “We ‘ain’t even,” He demanded stubbornly.

Papyrus looked like he had more to say, but Red cut him off.  

They’d wasted enough time arguing over something pointless –and he was freezing. He turned back towards Waterfall. “Let’s just go find something to eat,” his eyes were glued to the floor as he led them back into the cavern towards their first trap. Clearing the dam went a lot faster with Papyrus’ help. The work mostly went along in lingering silence. Red was left to his thoughts.

Why _was_ he staying here? Pap was moving again. If he didn’t owe him anything, if he truly felt guilty for jumping Papyrus the other day, why hadn’t he just left already? He’d be doing him a favor. He should be getting back to Boss-

Pap interrupted him.

“look at this one,” He said.

Red glanced away from his work, to look over at Papyrus. He was holding his find in front of his face -two large googly eyes up in front of his own sockets. A big grin set on his skull.

The serious expression on Red’s face fell as he stared dumbfounded at Papyrus, who popped them into his sockets and shook his head back and forth wobbling the eyeballs in his sockets. Speechless, Red turned back to his work. Blocking out the distraction.

“no?” Papyrus asked. He heard two pops as the toys fell out of his skull. Red saw him pocket the plastic eyeballs in his peripheral.

A few more minutes passed, Pap spoke up again.

“Red.”

He ignored him.

“Red.”

Reluctantly, Red turned to face Papyrus again. He was holding a pair of hollow glasses up to his face, since he didn’t have ears to place them on. Large, hairy eyebrows, an oversized nose, and fuzzy whiskers were attached to the glasses, gracing Papyrus’ features with glorious ones he’d never had before.

 “i _moustache_ you a question,” Pap said seriously.

Red stared horrified at him, mouth agape. Slowly, he turned back to what he was doing, pretending he never saw that.

“so you don’t dig the ‘stache,” He heard Papyrus mumble. Again, he saw him slip the glasses into his pocket out of the corner of his eye.

Several more minutes passed in complete silence. Until it was broken by a loud, slow;

_Pffffffffffttttttttttt._

“What are ‘ya doin’?” Red whirled on Papyrus angrily.

He froze, hands up in surrender, holding up a small, rubber circle in his palm. His eyes darted to the sides uncertainly, before he met Red’s glare. He pointed to the item with his free hand. “it was the whoopee cushion.”

Red scowled at him. He _knew that._ “Where are ‘ya getting’ all this stuff?” He stomped over to where Pap was to glare down at what he was doing. In front of him was a wet, soaking, and vibrantly colored open box. Inside it seemed to be an assortment of toys and oddities. Red crouched down next to the larger skeleton, frowning at the box.

“it’s some kind of joke box,” Pap informed, smiling at the company as he approached.

Red picked up a curly, sopping, dirty, multi-colored wig out of the container, clearly unimpressed. He looked down at the remaining items, where Pap seemed to be sorting which ones were still functioning and which were too water damaged to use. He tossed the wig over his shoulder into the current, “Throw this junk away.”

“it’s not all junk,” he denied. Red swore he could catch a hint of the whining tone of his little brother, but it was brief and short-lived. “here!” Pap said eagerly, picking a piece up out of the box. “try this one,” he slipped a long, colorful weave over Red’s finger.

Red held his finger up in front of his face, furrowing his brow at the tough, colorful fabric fit snuggly around his index digit. It did nothing. “Seems pretty useless,” He retorted.

“no,” He laughed. “you put another finger in the other end. like this,” Pap slipped his finger into the other side of the colorful, woven tube.

Nothing happened.

“Wonderful,” Red deadpanned, monotone.

This was a waste of time. He pulled his hand away. The tube constricted, squeezing his finger and locking it in place. Red yanked one more time, harshly. All he did was yank Pap’s hand along with him as well. The weave squeezing their fingers tight. He glowered menacingly down at the colorful tube.

“nyeh heh heh! your face!” Pap laughed.

Red kept pulling, his hand stuck in the contraption. “What is it?” He demanded, shaking his hand, but failing to free his finger. He only shook Pap’s arm along with him.

“it’s a finger trap,” Pap snickered, making no effort towards freedom. Allowing his arm to be frantically shaken.

“Get it off!” Red barked, sneering at the device. No matter how he was pulling his finger, it just wouldn’t come out. Papyrus must have put it on too tightly. He was stuck.

“ok, ok,” Pap’s laughter died down. “come here.” With his trapped hand, he tugged Red’s hand closer. His free hand lightly grabbed Red’s wrist to hold his hand still, but Red went entirely rigid at the contact. “all you have to do is not pull away. stay still,” He instructed. Red definitely wasn’t moving. He pushed their fingers closer together until they were touching. He pinched the weave and pulled his finger free. Then, he slipped the tube off of Red’s finger. Red quickly retracted his hand away from Papyrus, rubbing his digit. He made it look so easy.

He scowled at the vile contraption held in Papyrus’ hand. Red snatched it away from him, throwing it to the waves.

“ah-“ Pap made a little grunt of recognition in the back of his throat as they both turned and watched the colorful horror splash into the water. Red seething after it the whole way as it washed away down the river and plummeted over Waterfall’s abysmal drop; left to the darkness forever.

_W h e r e   I t   b e l o n g e d._

Pap burst out laughing again. “it wasn’t going to hurt you!”

“Could’a fooled me,” Red grumbled, standing up. “There’s nothing here. Let’s move on to the next one.” He slipped his hands into his damp coat pockets and stalked away to the next trap.

Much of the day went like that. Sorting the piles together. Papyrus often stopping to point out weird trash, like how this one looked like a face. Or how phallic that one appeared. The taller seemed endlessly entertained by the things that washed up. Always demanding Red’s attention to share what he’d found, trying to get a rise or a laugh out of him. Mostly, he didn’t know how to respond, but it was a very different experience sorting the trash with someone verses doing the work alone.

On the last trap, Pap asked in his usual, lazy drawl, “what do you want to do with these? should I throw them?”

Again, for the hundredth time, Red unenthusiastically turned to see what Papyrus had to show him. Yet this time his eyes lingered. Pap held up two red cans, labelled ‘tomato paste’ in front of him.

“Don’t throw them!” Red yelled, snatching away the precious food from Papyrus. He looked the cans over. They seemed undamaged, unopened. They had a weight to them. There was something inside. “You’ll keep all that other junk, but you’ll throw away actual food?” Red scolded in disbelief.

From his seat, Pap leaned apathetically in towards him to peer at the cans over Red’s shoulder.  “but they said ‘paste’,” He pointed to the labelling on the can.

“Yeah. _Tomato_ paste,” Red corrected. “That’s food, numskull.”

“doesn’t sound very edible,” Pap rambled lazily, unimpressed.

Red couldn’t hear him. He was too busy eyeing two perfectly intact cans of food. His grin widened, he turned to Pap excitedly, “We could make a meal with these!”

“we can?” Pap asked, his mouth curling to match Red’s smile.

“Yeah,” He furrowed his brow thinking. “Well, not just out of these. W-we’d need some spices.” He thought it over and sighed, sinking to the stones dejectedly. “And some baking supplies,” He groaned.

“baking?”

“Like flour.” He didn’t think he’d seen anything of the sort at the cottage. It was pretty barren of food. Everything had been moldy, too. It was unlikely they’d find what they needed. But it’d be a waste to throw away food now. He clamped his hands protectively around the cans. Hell, he’d make Pap eat just the paste if it came down to it.

He was torn from his thoughts when two big hands grabbed his wrists, tugging him to his feet.

“i know where we can get that,” Pap grinned wide. Before he could respond, before he could protest being dragged or even register the touch, the tall skeleton pulled Red into a shortcut with him. The void rushed by them, as they twisted through the space. Red gripped tightly onto the cans in his hands, fearing he’d lose them in the void. Pap gripped firmly onto him as the blackness sped by. Red stumbled on his feet as they exited, fighting for his balance after the sudden port. Two hands on his wrists helped him steady himself. Red blinked away the disorientation. Pap was smiling down at him enthusiastically.

Red glanced to the side. They were in the middle of what appeared to be a restaurant. It was decked out in purples and some of the tables had lacey cloths draped over them. If he looked past the paint job and effeminate tastes, the layout looked a lot like Grillby’s. Yet there was a foul stench in the air. On the counter in the back were what he supposed had once been pastries, but now they were molded over. Deteriorating on the display at the bar.

This was the restaurant he’d tried to get into before, but couldn’t.

Pap dropped Red’s hands. “Muffet keeps all her spices in the back.”

Red shuffled after him, too awed by the eerie similarities to say anything back. He stared around the room, but it really did just look like Grillby’s to him, with some strange redecorating. On closer inspection there were spider webs everywhere, but not a bug in sight. Some of the webbing even looked artsy, like it was designed to go there.

Pap led them into a well-stocked kitchen in the back. A foul smell hit them the second they opened the door. The stench here wasn’t very promising. “it was one of these,” He rummaged in some of the drawers, shifting through their contents, which clattered around. “here it is!” Pap exclaimed, pulling open one of the drawers.

Red tore his eyes away from the scenery, edging closer to see what he was so excited to show him. The drawer was stuffed full of tons of different spices, arranged alphabetically. Red stared in wonder at their luck, setting the cans down on the counter.

“this one too,” Pap said pulling open the drawer below it. He turned around, examining the kitchen. Tapping his jaw in thought. “the flour was over here somewhere…” He wandered off leaving Red with the spices.

He sorted through the containers, setting the salt, basil, oregano, and garlic salt on the counter with the two cans. Pap came back dropping a large bag of flour next to the other ingredients. “found it,” He paused for a brief second staring at the things set out on the counter. “…are we just going to take them?”

Red looked at him puzzled. “Yeah? No one here’s gonna use it.”

“right,” Pap said rigidly.

Red stared up at his hard expression for a few seconds. Before he smiled crookedly up at the other, “’Ya worried ‘bout stealin’ it?” Amusement laced through his voice.

“no,” Pap responded quickly. Too quickly.

Cute.

“Don’t worry,” Red checked the faucet and tested the burner. The place had spider webs and rotten food everywhere, but the kitchen still worked. “We don’t have to _take_ anything. The restaurant is just _lending_ us the ingredients. We can cook here.”

Pap laughed at the poor and obvious bend in truth. “Muffet would never buy that!” But he seemed to relax, a slanted grin on his face, “let’s do that.”

This was good. This was going better than he’d hoped. He felt his smile return, curling up at the sides of his mouth. “Is there sugar?”

“tons,” Pap grinned back.

“Grab that, too,” Red instructed, wandering deeper into the kitchen. There were rancid, half-cooked, expired recipes on some of the counters, but a bunch of the raw ingredients, like the spices, were probably still good. He tugged open one of the freezers at the back of the room. Inside he found a ton of perfectly frozen half-beaten eggs. These were stored well. They were lucky to be in a pastry shop. He pulled out one of them in a plastic bag. It was like a treasure trove of food. “Why didn’t ‘ya take me here sooner?”

“well it’s mostly spoiled.”

“’Ya can still make stuff out of these,” Red grunted, rummaging through the rest of the freezer. Sorting what was expired with freezer burn from the things that were still good.

Pap shrugged. “you seemed pretty intent on going to the Dump.” He set a bag of sugar with the other things they’d set out.

Red glared at him over his shoulder as he pulled the eggs they’d need from the fridge. He ran the bag under some hot water. With this much food, he was in too much of a good mood to let anything spoil it right now. They could probably survive off of what was left here long enough to build up a stock of rations they’d caught from the Dump.

“what else?”

 “Olive oil.” Red fetched a pot from beneath the counters. He set it on a nearby stove, dumping the tomato paste into the container along with some water and lit the burner.

Pap returned with the oil. “what are you doing?”

Red shrugged at him, figuring it was self-explanatory. “Cooking.”

Papyrus seemed skeptical, “…can you really cook?”

“Asks the master chef who made a bowl of honeyed snow?”

The lanky skeleton smirked at Red. “fair enough.” He set the oil down, rubbing his hands together, “ok. what do i do?”

Red blinked at him. He didn’t think Papyrus would want to help out in the kitchen. He hadn’t expected Papyrus to actually _help_ , but as he looked over at the tall skeleton, there was an eager glint in his eye he just couldn’t say no to. “Uhh… P-pour the flour out on the counter and mix in the eggs and oil,” Red mumbled, turning his eyes back to his own work. The counters were a bit tall for him and it was hard to see what he was doing.

Suddenly from the side, there was the equivalent of an explosion as white powder erupted from the bag Papyrus was holding. It flew up in the air, covering both of them and everything else in flour. Red turned incredulously at Papyrus, who was holding the bag upside down. He’d tried to dump the entire bag out on the counter in one go. He looked sheepishly over to Red.

“Not the whole thing!” Red yelled, puffing out flour from his teeth.

“you didn’t say that.”

Over the next two hours, it was clear Papyrus had no clue how to cook and had probably been banned from every kitchen he had ever entered in his entire life. It was just one accident after the other. Pap often trying to cut corners and shorten the recipe with some brilliant idea of his. And Red was left wondering, if neither his brother nor him could cook, how either of them had survived so long. But, despite everything, Red didn’t shoo him out of the kitchen because he simply looked so happy. Pap was having _fun._ Every time Red scolded him; he laughed.

At the end of it all, it was late in the evening when they stepped out of the kitchen looking like they’d been in a warzone. Each with a bowl of pasta that somewhat resembled the shape of spaghetti. Red was exhausted, he crashed into the nearest booth with his dinner, not caring how he got flour and sauce all over the seat. Papyrus joined him.

“cooking is hard,” Pap groaned, but he was smiling.

“No, _you_ make cooking hard,” Red growled back, but he just didn’t have the energy to sound threatening. He flicked some flour off his hand at Papyrus who dodged away from it.

Pap rested his head on his hand, smiling over the table at the little, flour-covered skeleton for a few seconds. Red didn’t know what to do beneath those orange eyes. He could only match Pap’s gaze so long before his eyes wandered around the strange purple bar. “well, _bone_ appetit,” Pap said, clanking his bowl against Red’s.

Despite himself, he laughed. Pap’s foolishness hadn’t once taken a dive this whole time, but at least they had food at the end of the day. “ _Bone_ appetit,” He agreed, smiling back. He watched Papyrus dig in first. It lit something warm in his soul to see Papyrus eagerly eating something.  After all was said and done, he definitely preferred this annoyingly animated skeleton to the former.

Pap looked up from his bowl, suspiciously squinting at Red. “you better eat something, too,” He demanded.

Red just grinned wider back at him. “I’m just makin’ sure ‘ya don’t explode or somethin’ first.”

“it’s actually not that bad,” He admitted in wonder. “we actually made spaghetti.”

“Sure,” Red chuckled, “’ _We’._ ” He dug into his own bowl. The noodles misshapen, sporting an odd texture, but the taste was altogether there. They actually had made spaghetti.

Pap smirked at him, seeing his eyes light up with the same wonder. “see? it’s not terrible. i actually _can_ cook.”

“Oh, yup,” Red said, unconvinced. “You can cook spaghetti. You’ve met all of _my_ standards,” He rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Clearly the peak of culinary prowess.”

“hey, i _cannoli_ do so much,” Pap winked.

“I don’t think ‘ya could even do cannoli,” Red mused.

They scarfed down the rest of their bowls. For the few minutes it took to eat, it hardly seemed worth the two agonizing hours in the kitchen, but Red was satisfied all the same. After their well-deserved meal, they braved re-entering the warzone that was the kitchen to pack away what was left of the sauce. Red headed for the front door with their loot, but a hand grabbed his shoulder.

He flinched.

“no, leave it locked.” Pap’s hand was on his shoulder, but it didn’t dig down. It just lightly rested there. His eyes seemed a bit far away as he turned to the empty establishment. Giving the place a short, apologetic bow, he mumbled, “sorry, Muffet. i’ll pay you next time.” He pulled the two of them through a shortcut into their living room.

“’Ya don’t have to apologize to an empty building,” Red muttered.

Pap ignored the comment, though, “home at last,” he yawned.

Red stared up at his companion, stretching out his long bones. Pap turned to him after he was finished stretching. “and you,” he added firmly, crouching down in front of him. Staring closely into his red eyes with half lidded irises. “take off that coat already!”.

Red involuntarily flinched at the sudden change in voice, shutting his eyes tight. Stiffening in place.

“it’s damp,” Pap said disapprovingly.

Red didn’t respond, he was already frozen. After a few seconds of no response, eyes tightly screwed shut, Red heard the zipper of his jacket slowly unwind. His eyes snapped open, a blush lighting his cheeks again. Papyrus was lazily crouched in front of him, one hand steadily pulling down the zipper on the front of his dirty, wet, winter coat. One hand apathetically propped on his knee, head leaned into his free hand. He looked uninterested in the actual act of what he was doing as he stared Red in the eye. “it’s dirty,” He stated matter-of-factly.

He was probably trying to get a rise out of Red again, but instead Red didn’t protest. He wasn’t even sure if he was breathing anymore.

He watched, still, as Pap lazily unzipped the coat all the way to the bottom. He raised an eyebrow at the stiff skeleton. “you gonna take it off?” He asked to no response. “Red?”

Red had turned to stone, focusing all of his attention on Papyrus through hollow sockets.

“ok, then,” Pap sighed, confused. He rose to his full height in front of Red, grabbing the ends of his sleeves and forcing the little skeleton to raise his hands above his head. “up we go!” He sung. He ripped the jacket off in one fell swoop. “see? that wasn’t so bad.”

Red blinked up at him, suddenly feeling exposed. He found his voice. “I-I-I coulda done it myself!” He yanked his jacket away from Papyrus, hugging it defensively.

“then take the rest of your clothes off yourself,” Pap steered him towards the bathroom, a hand lightly pressing his back.

“But the sauce-“

“i’ll put the sauce away. you take a bath first.”

Pap shut the door behind him, locking him in the narrow bathroom. Red frowned at the door. He wasn’t sure he trusted Papyrus with the food –or any food for that matter, but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to leave a simple task like that to him.

He dropped the jacket he held to the floor and stripped out of Papyrus’, now filthy, garments. He didn’t feel bad for getting them dirty. Most of the mess was Papyrus’ fault anyway; the aftermath of flour explosions and sauce spills. Red got into the water, washing off the white powder and spaghetti stains from his chipped bones –also a gift from Pap- when a knock came at the door.

“Yeah?” Red called out, sinking low into the tub. He willed himself not to summon any bones this time.

Pap let himself in, feeling along the wall with his eyes shut. “sorry, i really need to remember to give these to you first. i brought a change of clothes and another towel.”

“I coulda just used the dried clothes from yesterday.”

Pap wrinkled his bridge in disapproval, “they’re dry, but aren’t they still dirty? just use these.”

“’K.”

Pap started to bend over, searching for Red’s discarded clothes, but Red screamed, “Wait!” Stopping that painful ordeal before it even started. “Don’t even try,” He growled. He scooped the supposed shorts and tank off the floor and threw them at Pap, smacking him in the face with the clothes.

He chuckled at his aim.

Pap let them fall away, smirking, “aww,” He said touched, “how generous. you even gave me the shirt off your back.” Red scowled at his sarcasm, but Pap couldn’t see it. He took the clothes with him as he left.

As he shut the door behind him, Red called after him, “Don’t you dare put them outside this time!”

He soaked in the tub for a while, but got out sooner than he had yesterday. The clothes that had been left for him were, again, from Pap’s own wardrobe, but this time he’d offered up a t-shirt instead of a tank. So, it didn’t slip off of Red’s shoulders so much. However, it was still too long. Red had to tuck it into the ‘shorts’, which were again too big for him.

Then, he picked up his coat that he had declined to relinquish over to Pap. He rinsed it off in the tub under a warm temperature. Cleaning it as best he could of filth and stains. He left it to dry with his other clothes, before he exited the bathroom.

Papyrus was waiting for him like yesterday. Sprawled on the couch with his own towel and set of clothes. He seemed like he was far away from where he sat, though. Eyes staring off into the distance. Not really recognizing the door had opened.

“Y-your turn,” Red said, approaching him.

Pap fell back to the present, smiling over at Red, “ok. do these clothes fit, too?” He asked, standing and inspecting the little skeleton.

“No. ‘Yer too big,” Red grumbled, feeling shy under the scrutiny.

“I get that a lot,” Pap winked at him playfully.

He rolled his eyes, “Just go clean up.”

Once the door was closed, Red checked both the location of the leftover sauce and his clothes. Both were in the kitchen, his clothes spread out to dry over the chairs and the sauce frozen in the freezer. Relieved everything was in order, he made his way up the creaky, wooden steps for the night.

Red collapsed onto the bed exhausted, wasting no time to close his eyes. Laying on the plush mattresses and basking in the comfort below him. He was mostly asleep when he felt the mattress dip with added weight.

“Red?” He heard Pap call softly into the darkness.

“Hmm?” He hummed absently.

“thanks for the food.”

“Hm.” He felt a blanket wrap around him.

“goodnight Red.”

“’Night, Pap,” He slurred back.

 

 

“…ns.”

_“Sans!”_

_Something clawed his back, yanking him off the stool he was precariously balancing on. He wasn’t able to get his legs under him fast enough and he smacked into the hard wooden floor, spread on his back. He looked up to the tall imposing figure looming over him._

_His bones chilled._

_The rowdy laughter of the bar broke out at his misfortune. Boss’ piercing red eyes snapped to the sides, quieting the bystanders, then stared down at him._

_“Is this where you’ve been?” He seethed._

_“B-Boss!” Sans stammered out. It had been a while since he’d seen him. How long had it been? A few days? A week? Sans couldn’t recall anymore. His head was killing him. He’d apparently slept long enough for the massive hangover he was overdue for to finally catch up to him._

_“Get up. We’re leaving.”_

“no.” A voice interjected.

_Sans doubled over, clutching his head from the spike in volume. The noise splitting through his head like a club to the skull._

_Boss made the metaphysical pain a reality as he smashed a fist into the side of his face. Good thing Boss tugged him to his feet afterward because there was no way he would have been able to follow through with the order with the way his head was spinning._

_“I said get up!” Boss growled inches from his face._

_Sans teeth clattered, searching for a proper response, but he couldn’t think straight enough to find one. “Bo-I-Ye-“_

_The bar erupted in laughter._

_“Ha!”_

_“He’s fucked.”_

_Snickering._

_“Sans is gonna get it this time.”_

“stay here.”

_“Papyrus is gonna dust him!”_

_Boss threw Sans behind him towards the door, kicking him with his sharp boot as he did so. Sans stumbled across the room, not really catching his balance. He was going to fall._

_Hooting._

_The telltale click of boots snapping against wood._

_Papyrus was surely stalking towards him now, livid. His taloned glove dug into Sans’ shoulder blade, forcing him to wince. Boss spun him violently towards the door._

_“Come with me.” Boss fumed, low and dangerous. He really was fucked. Pain steered him out of the building._

_Whistling._

_“Nice knowin’ ‘ya!”_

_“See ‘ya, Sansy!”_

_“Bye!”_

“sans!” _His brother’s voice called. His head snapped up to Boss, but Boss wasn’t speaking to him. He was so mad; Boss wasn’t even looking at him. Face forward, scowling and firm._

“no, sa..ns…”

_He looked over his shoulder as he was dragged out of the door, but the voice was too close to be any of them. Too miserable to be any of the hooting patrons cheering on his certain death._

He woke up.

“please.” He could barely make out the voice say behind him. Sans spun around, squinting in the darkness. Pap was twitching in his sleep, mumbling and shaking the bed.

He froze, watching the form toss and turn in his sleep much like his little brother would when he was suffering through a nightmare. This was very different from the silly, carefree Pap he’d seen today.

Why had he been carefree? He’d been miserable up until today.

Papyrus shook, fighting off a terror in his dream.

 It was wrong.

Of course he wasn’t happy. Of course he wasn’t fine. He’d just been keeping his spirits up, hadn’t he? Faking a smile. Forcing a good mood. Making the best out of a shitty situation. Papyrus was clearly troubled, even if he wouldn’t divulge those fears to him awake.

“-sans!-“ Red heard him call.

Red didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t who Pap was waiting for.

“S-sans-“ Pap moaned, flinching into himself on his side atop the mattress. Red thought he spied a single orange tear slip out of his eye down the ivory bone and he felt like his soul snapped. The sound resounding through his head in the growing emptiness of this place.

Sans wasn’t coming for him.

At least, not his Sans.

_This_ was why he was staying here, wasn’t it? If he wasn’t here, Papyrus would be abandoned. Alone. Left to the dust in this wasteland.

As long as Pap needed him; he’d stay.

“I’m here, Pap,” Red said scooting closer to him.

Papyrus shivered.

Carefully, he wrapped his arms around those large shoulders, pulling the big skeleton closer to him. “Shh. I’m right here.” He said, ignoring the way his face burned when Papyrus nestled his head into the warmth of his chest.

Pap’s hands clutched the front of his shirt loosely in slumber, but he didn’t seem to wake up or be freed of his nightmare. He was tense, trembling still. He cried softly, “Sans…”

“I gotcha,” Sans curled himself protectively around him, stroking the back of his skull. “Nothin’ bad’s gonna happen to ‘ya while I’m here.”

Papyrus seemed to relax into him, mumbling muffled horrors into his shirt.

Red rubbed his head affectionately into the top Pap’s skull, “Promise.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter: Neither of them can take care of themselves, but at least they can take care of each other.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season!  
> I already failed my New Years Resolution, which was to get this chapter out to you guys on New Years... So, we're off to an excellent start! xD


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Mandatory Recap:  
> Red and Pap were getting to know each other.  
> *eyebrow wiggling intensifies*  
> …No.  
> Really. They were just getting to know each other.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Red stayed up like that with Pap for what seemed like hours, stroking the back of his skull and mumbling sweet reassurances to him. Gliding his fingers across the smooth, pristine bone in slow, soft touches, but Papyrus still winced in his sleep. Red pulled the big bones even closer into him in a protective hug, holding him flush against his ribcage.

“Shh, ‘ya big baby,” He whispered, finally silencing the other’s occasional whimper. He ran his hand gently up and down Pap’s head, using his other arm to hold him close. He was starting to nod off to the rhythm himself when he felt long arms wrap around his midsection, slipping beneath his spine, constricting him closer to the sleeping form.

Red locked still, eyes widening, but it didn’t seem like Papyrus was awake. The bonehead was simply seeking out warmth in his sleep. His long arms draped around the little form. Holding onto him. Red felt Pap squeeze him a little tighter as he rubbed his face into his sensitive ribcage, settling into a quiet, peaceful slumber against the bone.

…And there they were. Two boneheads clinging onto each other in middle of the night.

Red immediately wanted out.

“O-okay, that’s enough,” He said to no one, too quietly to wake the other. He dislodged his hands as inconspicuously as he could. With his hands free, Pap was still clutching onto his waist. Red spun as far as he could, trapped as he was, to carefully pick up Pap’s arm. Slowly, he lifted it off of him and scooched away from the claustrophobic hold. Setting the long limb down on the mattress. Then, he had to pry off each individual finger of Pap’s other hand that had dug itself into Red’s T-shirt. His little hands gently tugged at the long fingers, trying to coax them into letting go of his shirt.

When he was _finally_ free, Papyrus was on his side, facing Red, hands limp and outstretched in front of him, taking up most of the mattress. Careful not to disturb the other, Red slid as far away from Pap as he could, pressing himself into the bedroom wall. He rolled over, facing away from the sleeping monster. He shut his eyes, trying to will away thoughts of what had just happened. Trying to will his racing mind to shut down and actually sleep.

It wasn’t long before there was a rustling behind him. The mattress was shifting. Red kept his eyes shut, trying to block it out. Two hands wrapped around his midsection, dragging him backwards across the mattress into Papyrus’ waiting arms. Before he could react, Pap wrapped his arms securely around the small warmth. Squeezing him firmly back into the large skeleton and locking him close.

Clingy brat!

Incredulous, Red spun as far around as he could to glower at the skull nestling into the back of his head, but Pap’s eyes were closed. He seemed to be asleep. Red blushed as Pap adjusted himself against him. Teeth scrapping against the back of his rough skull. Long legs curling into the nook of his knees. The thumb on one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles into his upper rib through his shirt. His other rested on Red’s hip.

Pap was _spooning_ him in his sleep!

At least the other way, he’d had some dignity, but now he was the little spoon. Pap was smothering him with his warmth. Suffocating him with every breath he exhaled onto his back. His soul was pounding. There was no fucking way he was sleeping like this.

Red’s hands shot up to his chest, frantically detangling the hand that was caressing his rib, but trying to be careful while doing so, so that the other monster wouldn’t wake up. He didn’t want to be caught dead like this. He didn’t want to be seen like this. After that, he blushed furiously as he freed his hip from the other hand, which also had a bad case of wandering thumb, as it rubbed along the outer rim of his iliac crest. Holding Papyrus’ hand up, he carefully picked himself up out of the hold, trying his best not to rock the mattress.

He scowled down at Papyrus’ blissful, happy face; snoring away.

He snatched his pillow from behind him and hopped over Pap’s sleeping form onto the floor. No way was he sleeping in the bed if the bonehead was going to be that grabby! He laid down on the carpet next to the bed, exhausted, closing his eyes into the pillow he hugged close to his face. He fell asleep there, safe from wandering arms.

 

 

_Sans huffed, taking in steady breaths of air. Trying to calm his speeding soul. His throat felt sore. He blinked away the sleep and wetness from his sockets. His cheek stung like it had been hit. A lot._

_“Awake yet?” Papyrus’ boorish voice asked._

_His brother was in front of him, hand raised. Piercing red eyes of disappointment glared down at him. The intimidating figure, dressed in full body armor, was crouched next to his bed, hovering over Sans’ single mattress. They were alone in his room and it was the middle of the night._

_Sans just blinked at him. Still taking in unsteady gasps of air. Eyes darting around the room wildly in confusion. Sweat beading on his bones. His mind couldn’t catch up. This wasn’t where he was. This wasn’t where he had been. He could’ve sworn!_

_“How the fuck am I supposed to get to sleep if you do this every single night?” Boss threatened in a low, terrifying growl._

_“B-Bo-B-,” Sans couldn’t answer him. His teeth were chattering. Clanking together as he looked up at the frightening skeleton with huge sockets. He was obviously pissed. It seemed real, but Sans still was not entirely sure he wasn’t just dreaming._

_Boss hissed at his ineptitude and stood up, stepped over Sans onto the mattress, and laid down on the bed next to him. “Ugh. Your bed is disgusting,” he retorted. He wrapped one arm around the petrified Sans and pulled the stiff skeleton into his side. “Go back to sleep and if you scream in my ear I will e n d  y o u.”_

_Boss’ arm pressed the little skeleton into the cool, hard metal of his breastplate. Sans stayed rigid, disbelief and confusion in his big eyes. When he didn’t wake up from this seeming dream, slowly, he relaxed against the armor._

_“Heh.”_

_He found his voice._

_“Heh heh!” Sans squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped an arm across his little brother’s chest, rubbing his skull into the sleek armor. “This is so uncomfortable!” He laughed._

_“Shut up and go to sleep!” Boss snapped._

A hand was petting his head. Pinching his cheeks. Tapping his skull.

“Red…” A lazy voice called.

Red groaned and rolled away from the noise. Slender fingers pinched his chin lightly and turned his face back towards the sound a bit.

“Red, it’s morning. you told me to wake you up.”

He swatted the hand away.

“do you want to sleep longer?” The voice snickered.

“Hm,” Red hummed in contented agreement. Not really listening to the voice.

“ok, then.”

Two arms slipped behind his back and he was scooped out of his bed. Red’s eyes snapped open, but all he saw was orange. He batted the hoodie fabric away, leaning back violently, but a hand braced his spine.

“hey. watch it. don’t fall.” Papyrus said, pulling him closer.

Red blinked against the light, trying to figure out where he was. Papyrus had picked him up and Red was now awkwardly slipping out of his grasp. One leg dangled loosely below, the other was propped up in an arm against the tall skeleton’s torso. Pap’s other arm pressing his back in towards him. The tall skeleton readjusted his hold on Red before he could fall, slipping a hand under his ass and hefting him higher.

“W-what are ‘ya doin’?” He groaned thick with sleep, offended, but not yet possessing the capacity to evaluate the situation. He just knew there was a hand on his ass.

“putting you to bed. why were you on the floor?”

“Uhh,” Red blinked away sleep, sobering, promptly looking away. He wasn’t going to say that Pap kept hugging him last night. He _definitely_ wasn’t going to say he hugged Pap last night. “Dunno,” Red mumbled, eyes cast to the side. A hint of a blush creeping onto his face. “Maybe I fell.”

Pap quirked an eyebrow at him. “seems weird you’d fall from the inside of the bed, past me, onto the-“

He interrupted him.

Red shoved his shoulder roughly, forcing them apart. Pap scrambled to catch him again. “Put me down! I’m awake now,” He demanded in his gruff voice. Pap only snickered in response, tightening his hold. Every time Pap pulled him closer so that he wouldn’t fall, Red pushed himself further away from Papyrus. Legs kicking out at his sides. “Let go!”

Papyrus didn’t immediately comply.

Red pushed against his face, using any ground available to him to desperately try and separate them.

Pap shut his eyes against the attacks, seemingly unaffected by the shoves, try as Red might. He smirked slyly, “ah~,” He sighed, at peace, “maybe we should just stay in bed all day today?” He spun around suddenly, kicking up one leg out from under him. They tipped over. Red dug his hands into the orange hoodie as they crashed down onto the mattresses, barely managing to stifle his cry of alarm as gravity swept them to the floor. They bounced atop the cushion; unharmed.

“nyeh heh heh!”

“Damn it!” Red cursed, pushing himself off of the mattress- no, not the mattress. Off _Papyrus._ He’d fallen flat on his back and Red was now sitting on top of him. Legs straddling his torso, hands curled into the fabric on his chest. Pelvis ground against his lower spine. Pap was laughing under him, rocking them to the rhythm of his chuckles.

He went absolutely crimson. Red leapt off of him as if he had been scorched and Papyrus was the flame.

“D-don’t do that!” Red tried to fix him with his best glare, but he couldn’t hold any anger against this stupid, smiling skeleton.

Because he was smiling today.

As if last night hadn’t happened.

Well, as far as Pap knew it hadn’t. He’d rather keep it that way, too. He blushed _again_ with memories of wandering hands _._ Fucking hell, Pap.

“Are ‘ya always this happy in the goddamn morning?” He grumbled.

“nope.” Pap eased into a seat at the edge of the bed, scooping up Red’s pillow from the floor. “you think it’s morning?” he said, leaning back to peer out the window.

He was right. If history had repeated itself; it probably wasn’t. “Why didn’t ‘ya wake me up sooner?”

“i just woke up, too.”

“Oh.” Well, at least Pap had slept long. Without the comfort of his coat pockets, Red decided to cross his fidgeting hands across his chest. He stared at the floor, trying to will away the burn on his cheeks. He realized he hadn’t greeted him yet. “’Mornin’, Pap,” He grumbled out.

Pap’s smirk quirked sideways in amusement. “good morning, Red.”

That didn’t help the burn.

He spun suddenly towards the door.  Making his escape. “I’m goin’ ‘ta get dressed.” Red left Pap on the bed, making his way downstairs. He entered the bathroom where he changed into his shorts, borrowed shirt, and jacket. It was nice to have something that actually fit. He emerged from the bathroom feeling much more comfortable than he had the past few days. Papyrus was in the living room.

“ready?” He asked, looking ready to go himself.

“Not gonna try and stay in anymore? You can stay here, ya’know.”

“nah. i don’t think you’d stay with me. i might as well go with you.”

“Suit ‘yerself,” Red shrugged, heading out into the cold. Pap took his place at his side. Red was growing accustomed to the familiar slow footsteps crunching the snow beside him, pacing his steps easily. Pap took it upon himself to start up a conversation.

“so you can cook spaghetti, huh?” He said, tapping his chin in thought. An unwarranted edge of awe there. “what else can you cook?”

“It ain’t that impressive!” Red laughed. “I dunno. Nothin’ fancy. Just normal food.”

“cake?”

“Yeah.”

“omelets?”

“Yeah.”

“steak?”

“Probably.”

“where’d you learn to cook all this stuff?” Pap asked. Like that list of simple recipes was something impressive.

Red shrugged, “Some of it’s self-thought. I also had a…,” and he paused; trying to place the right word. Acquaintance? Accomplice? Friend? Were they friends? “…Employer who ran a bar. He taught me the rest.”

“oh.” Pap said. “Is that what you used to do before? You were a cook –a chef?”

Red blanched on the verge of laughter, “No –no! I used ‘ta-“ and he cut off. “’ta…”

How could he say this to Pap?

‘Oh. I used to fuck people for money. I’d blow the bar’s owner for hamburgers. My brother got me a day job, but I slept through most of it. Really, I was only good for a quick, cheap bang.’

He couldn’t bring himself to say it. His mouth felt suddenly dry. Like his little brother, he didn’t want him to know. Didn’t want Pap to be ashamed to be with him –even if he was an absolute disgrace.

Pap was looking at him expectantly.

Pap shouldn‘t expect anything from the likes of Red. He’d just be a disappointment.

Red didn’t know this world well enough to claim a job in a lie either.

“I –uh, used ‘ta do odd jobs or f-favors fer people fer money,” He stuck his hands into his pockets and avoided Pap’s innocent, orange eyes.

“oh. like a freelancer?”

No. Like a whore.

“S-sure,” Red grinned up at Pap. “Like that.” Red skipped out to the first trap across the slick stones, but they didn’t sway today. His footing held true as he made a safe passage towards the dam. “What ‘bout you?” Red asked, changing the subject before Pap could inquire more. “What did you used ‘ta do?”

Pap gave an apathetic shrug. “i used to do what you did.”

Oh. So, that would make him a-

Red almost missed the stone.

_With a pant, he drew away. Letting their tongues unwind. Allowing their teeth to part. He was holding a drained Papyrus loosely in his arms. Lidded, glazed eyes stared, dazed, up at him. Pap blinked. A furious, tangerine blush crept across his prey’s entire skull. Those piercing orange eyes locked onto his with such horror, such_ disgust _–_

Red violently stopped the thought before it could continue. He tried to swallow something guilty and unpleasant in his throat. The little skeleton rubbed the back of his sleeve against his fangs, wiping away the impurity there. Fighting away his own blush.

There was _no way_ Papyrus did what he did.

He must have been a freelancer. _A freelancer._ He tried to convince himself.

“B-be more specific. Did’ja work in town?” Trying to recover his slip. Trying to get some other image in his head to replace the one currently burning a hole through it. “I’d ask if ‘ya worked at that pastry shop, but I _know_ ‘ya didn’t,” He teased lightly. He never thought he’d feel calmer at the idea of Papyrus exploding the kitchen. Yet, somehow, that was a better image.

“some days i worked as a sentry out in the woods near Snowdin. other days, i sold snacks or stuff along the roads,” he shrugged. Pap knelt down, joining Red in the daily chore of cleaning the dam. “mostly i just did whatever there was to do at the time.”

So, he _did_ do his job. The day job. Thank the fuckin’ stars it was just that.

“Surprised yer brother let ‘ya do that,” He mumbled.

His brother, some version of Sans, had let this snowflake hang out alone around the main roads? Was he insane? Well… the sentry job he could understand. Boss had also let Sans be a sentry along the road, even though he only had one hit point, but no one really went that way except for kids and patrolling guards. It was a remote location. One that wasn’t really expected to see much trouble.

Pap looked over at him quizzically. “why?”

“Ain’t the roads kinda unsafe?”

The skeleton seemed to roll that information around in his head, considering it. “no. not really? is it different in the city?”

The city? He kept his face stoic. Pap thought he was from the _city?_

That actually wasn’t the worst idea. He could work with that.

“H-how’d ‘ya know I was from the city?” Red asked, curious how he’d drawn that conclusion. He hunched into himself as he worked.

“well, there aren’t really any bars out here. plus, i know everyone in Snowdin and i’m on the main roads out here all the time. i’ve never seen you.” Pap elaborated.

“Maybe ‘ya just forgot about me?”

Pap laughed a bit sadly. “i don’t’ think i’d forget someone who looks so much like my brother. you really could be his clone.”

 “Heh.”

Right.

“Y-you’ll have’ta show me a picture sometime,” He mumbled, feigning ignorance. He decided it was best to change the subject off of Sans before it had any adverse effects like last time. “Y-yeah, I never came out here often. Maybe just once or twice,” He lied. “I did those odd jobs and hung out at that bar that I mentioned before on most days. Guess I stayed in mostly.”

“no hobbies?”

“Nah. I just slept in my free time. S-sometimes I did housework fer my bo-b-brother,” Red rambled.

Pap’s head seemed to snap up. “you have a brother?”

Fuck.

No denying it now.

“Oh. Y-y-yup,” Red said shortly, sinking into the fluffy rim of his winter coat.

It was ok. He wasn’t found out yet.

“what was he like?” Pap pressed curiously.

“He was –uh-,” Red looked over at Pap, blinking. Caught in those orange eyes. He tore his eyes away, instead thinking of his little brother. “He was… strong. And confident. It was really admirable,” He mumbled with a blush. He’d never say that to Boss, so it was weird essentially saying it to Boss’ face. “He never gave up on anything.” _Not even Sans_. He couldn’t keep a fond smile from growing on his face. “He was smart, too –a-and brave. Didn’t get that from me,” he chuckled. “Heh. When he was tiny he used ‘ta cry a lot, but, before I knew it, he grew really tall,” He snapped out of his thoughts for a second, whirling on Pap, “B-but not tall like you!”

Trying to separate the two from each other. Boss and Pap were actually probably around the same towering height. He just didn’t want Papyrus to get suspicious that they both just happened to have brothers who looked exactly like each other.

It wasn’t like you could mix their personalities up. Mixing Boss up for Pap would probably be the last mistake he ever made. Boss and Pap were very different. Just the way they carried themselves alone was worlds apart.

Pap was smiling softly over at Red. He seemed interested in Red’s stupid ramblings. “what was his name?”

Red’s eyes fell to the floor, sinking into his coat. This conversation was dangerous. “Ya’know, I r-really don’t wanna talk about ‘im.”

“oh.” Pap said woodenly, surprised. “i’m sorry.” After a long pause, he added solemnly, “i’m… really sorry.” Something thick and remorseful and _honest_ in that second tone.

Pap probably thought his brother was dead, but Red didn’t correct him. That was for the best. Then, the goody-two-shoes wouldn’t ask him anymore questions about him. He wouldn’t find out and Red could keep to the safety of his lies. He let that thick silence settle between them. They worked quietly for some time without a word. Only the echo flowers spoke. Shouting odd encouragements to them in Sans’ voice. This time Papyrus didn’t break it. Which was unusual for Pap’s usual behavior. Finally, Red had enough of that damnable silence. He glanced over at the lanky skeleton.

He looked miserable.

That was his own fault. He knew Papyrus had been trying so hard to keep up a good mood. Then, he’d gone and ruined it, bringing back memories of the dead. Red grit his teeth staring angrily down at the pile of garbage. At this rate, he was going to have nightmares again tonight and neither of them would get a good night’s sleep.

“’Ya wanna know what really stinks?” Red asked softly. The somber mood hanging thick in the cavern.

Pap turned his languid eyes up to Red.

“Garbage,” Red grinned back, holding up some rancid piece of something foul.

Pap blinked at him.

“G-guess that joke _expired,”_ He grinned looking to the side. “It was pretty _rotten._ ”

Pap laughed once, loudly, “gross, dude, put that down.”

He threw the foul thing away and reached into the filthy dam, grinning at Pap. “Hey, Pap,” A shit-eating grin widening on his skull. “What’s brown and sticky?”

Pap wrinkled his face in disgust.

Red pulled it out of the trash pile. “A stick,” He replied; holding up some branch that had lodged itself in their trap.

Red grinned wider as Pap burst into laughter, thankful his smile had returned. It had a way of lighting up the room. He waited for it to die down before sharing another.

“Did ‘ya hear the one about the skeleton who broke his left arm and leg?” Red paused, watching Pap grin in anticipation. “I reckon he’s all _right_ now.”

Pap chuckled again. This time turning his smile towards Red. “what do you call a man with no arms and no legs in a pool?” Pap asked. Red waited patiently for the punchline. “Bob.”

“Pretty sure ‘ya call that _dead_ ,” Red corrected, laughing along as he basked in Pap’s happiness.

They stole back the mood with corny jokes and bad punchlines. Trying to one-up each other as they worked. Warring jests on one another as they went from one dam to the next, carefully cleaning the traps and performing the needed chores. They both seemed content to stick to senseless conversations that had no prying intent into the other’s history. Both aware there was some sort of line the other didn’t want them to cross. Both seemed perfectly happy sticking to those boundaries. They didn’t bring up the dust they kicked up as they walked or the stray flower that still screamed. The past was behind them. They were willing to stave off their curiosities about the other because what they had now was good enough to pass as sensible peace.

Together they got a lot more done than they ever could alone. They covered a lot more ground and worked twice as fast. They even had time to set up another trap in a different stream, which was a much needed addition to their nets. They walked back tired, but satisfied, to their house in the evening side by side. Red didn’t mind the way their arms tapped against each other occasionally with the short distance they were keeping from each other.

“no,” Pap said, exasperated. “a fish with no eye is a _fssshh_.”

“Look, that’s a dumb joke,” Red said pacing through the snow, shrugging his shoulders indifferently, “A fish with no eye is –guess what?-still a fish. _Fsh!_ Ain’t no other way to spin it. ‘Fssshh’, or whatever is the noise it makes when ‘ya _eat_ the fish.”

Pap opened the snowy door for them as they argued their way into the house. “that’s because you mumble when you talk! whatever,” Pap laughed, giving up on this. “now i’m just hungry.”

“I’ll make some grub,” Red bee lined for the kitchen.

“can i help?” Pap asked, hot on his heels.

Pap would surely ruin it, but he sounded too eager for Red to turn him down.

“S-sure,” He stuttered, still not used to having assistance. “How ‘bout ‘ya bring over the flour, eggs, and oil from that restaurant.” He whirled on Pap suddenly, trying a much sterner voice, “A-and don’t ‘ya dare t-try and ‘improve’ the recipe. We’re cookin’ it my way.”

Pap smirked, giving a lazy wave as he stepped into a shortcut, “you got it.”

Red sighed in relief when he left, figuring he had a few minutes to try and set the sauce up before Papyrus could spill it everywhere. At least they were just heating stuff up this time and not making most of it from scratch. He rushed to retrieve the leftovers from the fridge. Because he couldn’t quite reach, he used the stoop in the kitchen to reach the oven and set the sauce in a pot on a low simmer. He stood at the stove slowly spinning the frozen sauce at the bottom of the pan until it melted.

It was quiet.

Red glanced to the side, but no one was there. The silence grew thick and suffocating around him as he waited. Before he’d known it, he’d grown so used to Papyrus being nearby every waking second; it was weird not having him around. Even when they didn’t talk, he could still at least hear the shuffling of the other next to him, his snoring or his breathing. But now it was just vacant. Still. Uneasy.

Papyrus wasn’t near him now and he felt anxious.

He glanced nervously to the kitchen frame a few more times, before he willed himself to keep his eyes down on what he was doing. Papyrus was fine. There was no need to worry over a grown man. Even if he was a low level, there was nothing alive down here to bring any harm to him. He was fretting for nothing.

That didn’t stop his mind from flying over a hundred different unlikely accidents Papyrus could find himself in.

He was imagining the webs in the restaurant catching fire when a tall figure popped surprisingly into existence next to him at the stove. Red jumped, rocking the stool beneath him. He gripped the counter to steady himself, but grabbed the burner instead.

_Fsssssshh._

His hand sizzled.

“Ah-!” He yanked it back aggressively, falling off the stool, but managed to land on his feet. He cradled the injured arm’s wrist in his good hand as he held the smoking bone up to his face. The hand twitching a bit as he tried to bend it.

“whoa. hey,” Pap grabbed his hand suddenly and the pain was forgotten. “you okay? i’m sorry,” He rambled, hands wrapping around Red’s injured arm from behind him. Pulling it above his head so Papyrus could get a look at it. Red stared up at him from between his arms, as Pap prodded the blackened bone.

He winced, sucking in a sharp breath of air as the finger pressed into the fresh, small, sensitive cracks on his hand. Where the slim, first, outer layer of the bone was chipping off.

“ok,” Pap drawled, “come over here.” He kicked his long legs into the back of Red as he half-ushered, half-pulled him over to the low sink. He crouched down behind the little skeleton, keeping him between his legs, as he pulled Red’s hand under the water.

Red didn’t know what to say as he did. The way his arms were enveloping him from behind, holding him still as the water soaked his phalanges, reminded him vaguely of a more recent event. A thumb wandering over his palm. He bristled.

Sure. He’d screamed at first, but he’d just been startled. It didn’t really _hurt_ that much. Certainly not at a level of pain he couldn’t handle. They could have just left it.

That’s what Red usually did when he got injured. He just left it. He wasn’t one for healing or first aid. He wasn’t really good with all that stuff. He didn’t really know how. Even in his own universe, it had been Papyrus who’d known how to set a bone. Red always figured with one hit point, he didn’t need to know, anyway. It would either be something minor or he’d be dead. There wasn’t really an in-between.

And this was minor. Obviously so.

Yet as he let his red eyelights trail over to the face hanging over his shoulder, Papyrus looked worried. Eyes fixed, concentrated, on his hand under the water. Long fingers rubbing over the bone to scrub away the black bits.

And he was pressed so close.

“I-I-I think it’s fine,” Red growled woodenly. “You can let go now.”

Pap didn’t pull away, though. “just humor me for a few more seconds,” He sighed. Orange eyes still diligently fixed on Red’s injured hand.

Red huffed and looked the other way, letting Papyrus clean the injury. Feeling long fingers press into his palm, spread his fingers, and stroke the bone. “’Ya done yet?” Red grumbled.

“almost,” Pap chuckled low in his ear.

It sent a shiver down his spine.

When Pap finally let go of his hand, Red ripped it away, pulling the fist close to his chest, rubbing it defensively with his other hand as if it were more burned now than it was before.

“see? that wasn’t so bad.”

“It was just a little burn,” Red mumbled, jaded. Stepping away from him back towards the stove.

“and now you’re much better,” Pap corrected effortlessly. He sounded like he was ready to counter him all day. Lazy eyes watching him as he stepped away. His soul thudded again.

Hell, he couldn’t stay with him or without him.

“Let’s just cook the meal,” He sighed. “Did’ja get the ingredients?”

“yup.”

“Ok,” Red stepped back up to the counter on the stool. “Pour _a little_ flour out on the counter.”

Papyrus laughed.

It was messy, but they managed to survive a second attempt in the kitchen making noodles. While Red regretted not going back over to Muffet’s to leave the mess there, they at least weren’t covered head to toe in flour by the time they sat at the table to eat. The kitchen was a different story, however, but they left it alone for now. The two of them scarfed down their misshapen noodles. The sauce was only a little burnt this time. Courtesy of Papyrus taking so long to clean Red’s hand. Then, they moved on with their usual nightly routine.

 It wasn’t long before Red was soaking his chipped and scared bones in the warm bath water. Watching the steam rise from the tub. He sunk low into the warmth, up to his chin, easing his bones against the porcelain. Breathing out bubbles instead of air. Enveloped in comfort, he shut his eyes, relaxing.

He wasn’t surprised when he heard a knock at the door, followed by the sound of Papyrus swinging it open. He’d strewn his clothes from today and this morning all across the bathroom floor as he had the previous nights without putting them properly away.

“hey,” Pap called, “i came to grab your clothes.”

“’K,” Red hummed.

“i brought you a towel, too.”

“’K.”

By now, he felt he knew Papyrus well enough that he could audibly _hear_ when the guy smirked. “don’t drown yourself, ok?”

“’K.”

. . .

Red’s eyes shot open, a fire cracking to life. Today, Papyrus hadn’t shut his eyes. Or had decided to open them. He wasn’t looking at Red, his eyes were fixed firmly on the floor picking up clothes, head angled almost purposefully low, but his eyes _were_ open.

Red had grabbed his soul with gravity before he’d even realized he’d done it.

“Out!” He bellowed.

Like the snap of a rubber band, Papyrus flew backwards out the door, thrown by the burst. Everything he was holding fell to the floor as he launched away. The whole motion being a lot more violent than he had intended. The door slammed closed behind him with a loud crack. And there was a louder crash from somewhere beyond the door.

. . .

And a groan.

He was fine.

Probably.

Red sighed, sinking back into the suds. The red fire that had sprung to life in his eye, crackling as it died down. Hissing when it met the water. It faded out into a low smoke, joining the steam as it wisped away.

He should probably check on him.

Reluctantly, Red ended his bath sooner than he’d like. He climbed out of the tub and quickly dried off his scared bones with the fallen towel. He didn’t see any spare clothes, so he hastily slipped Papyrus’ clothes from last night on, before he threw open the door to the bathroom to see the damage he’d done.

Papyrus was slumped at the bottom of the far wall, doubled over and rubbing the back of his head.  There might have been a small crack in the plaster behind him. He groaned. “fuck, you throw hard.”

Red grit his teeth, swallowing the guilt down. “S-s-sorry,” he mumbled, walking anxiously over to Papyrus. He hadn’t meant to hurt him. Usually he didn’t have to worry about petty blows like that harming another monster, but Pap wasn’t normal, was he? Red was level six and Pap was only level one. He couldn’t just man-handle him like that –even accidentally. The disparity in their levels meant he could really hurt him.

“L-let me see,” Red crouched down next to him, tentatively. His hands brushed Pap’s skull as he gently turned the back of his head towards him so he could see the spot he’d been rubbing. Pap didn’t flinch away from him as Red’s thumb ghosted over the back of his skull.

“how’s it look?”

Red’s soul sunk.

“S-s-sor-n-not good…” As his fingers traced the base of Pap’s skull, a small chipping of the top layer of the bone was peeling away. Small hairline fractures splintered away from it, like a phantom across the top layer of the bone. It wasn’t very deep. If this was on Red it would seem so insignificant next to all his other divots and scars that it would be unnoticeable, but this was on Papyrus.

It was the only imperfection on his otherwise perfectly pristine skull.

There _was_ still a monster alive that could hurt Pap. Namely; him.

“is it that bad?” Pap asked indifferently, one hand going behind him to cover one of Red’s now shaking hands.

“I’m r-really sorry.”

Pap spun around to look at him in the face at the tone of voice. His normally lazy face was now drawn into a perplexed expression. He smiled quickly, “hey, hey. don’t worry about it. sorry for walking in on you.” One hand rubbed the back of his skull. “is it really that bad? it doesn’t feel that bad.”

What was Red going to do? He didn’t know anything about first aid or healing. He wouldn’t be able to fix him. His hands slipped away from Pap’s face, falling into his lap.

He was useless.

Papyrus stood up, leaving Red where he was frozen, to walk into the bathroom. He seemed to be checking the back of his head.

“what?” Papyrus called out into the living room. “why are you freaking out? that’s not even as bad as that burn you just got. it’s tiny!” He came back into the living room frowning at Red who sat unmoving on the ground. Staring blankly in front of him.

What was he going to do? Tiny or not, he couldn’t believe he’d thrown him hard enough to crack the bone.

He hadn’t even done it _intentionally._

He was so unused to having someone around who was weaker than him. Someone who was even more fragile than him? What if he broke him? What if he accidentally-

“Red!” Two big hands on his upper arm pulled him onto his feet. Keeping his hands firmly clasped around Red’s arms so he wouldn’t fall, Pap dipped his head to look into Red’s eyes. The little skeleton blinked at him. “hey, buddy,” Pap drawled. “i’m fine. are _you_ ok?”

“I-I’m s-s-sor-“

“yeah,” Pap said patiently, “you’re sorry. i know. apology accepted. i’m sorry i walked in on you.” He frowned, looking Red up and down. He could probably feel the slight trembling in his bones. “how about we go to bed?”

“’K.”

Red lethargically followed him up the wooden stairs. When they entered the bedroom, Red flinched, his eyes drifting to the side. “M-maybe I should sleep-“

“nope!” Pap plopped down on the mattress, patting the spot next to him. “get over here.”

Red sighed, crawling into the bed next to him. Pap pulled the blanket over them both. “i’m not mad.”

“I know.” He should be. Or at least disappointed.

Red was supposed to keep him safe and he’d hurt him so easily.

“don’t worry about it,” Pap drawled, smiling over at Red.

Red was still looking over at him with a worried expression.

Pap patted the side of his face, suddenly, forcing him to close one eye. He rubbed the bone, jostling Red’s head fondly. “just go to sleep,” he said in his lax voice. He rolled back over towards the outside of the bed, nestling down for the night. “goodnight, Red.”

Red stared hard at the back of his skull. He could barely see the little missing chips and their ghosting webs, but they were still there.

Red frowned. “Goodnight, Pap.”

 

 

_He raised his voice. He always did that when he was mad. It was when he lowered it that you had to be careful. That was the dangerous tone._

_Papyrus spun him around so he had to look at him._

_“What do I have to do, brother? Kill him to keep you away from there? I told you not to do that again!” The towering skeleton grabbed him suddenly from the front of his coat, pulling him close. “Why the fuck can’t you get it through that thick skull of yours?”_

_Sans was pretty pissed now, too, though. He let him grab him. Let him steam in his face. At least they were on the same fuckin’ level when he did that. “I was just eatin’ there!” He snarled back._

_“For four days!” Papyrus shrieked at him, lifting him off the ground. The cloth suffocating around his neck._

_Was that how long it had been?_

_Didn’t matter. Papyrus had probably been gone off training or some shit for at_ least _three of those. It wasn’t like Pap ever told him where_ he _was going to be most of the time. He wouldn’t even tell him what he was doing! Since he’d gotten that job, every fucking time he just answered with, “Royal Guard Duty.”_

_“So?” Sans barred his fangs at Papyrus. Growling the challenge just a breath from his face. Not fighting the grip that held him off the ground._

_“So you listen to me when I tell you to do something,” Papyrus’ voice dropped to a dangerous snarl, his teeth biting off each word venomously. Voice low and commanding._

_He was so riled up, so enraged, so absolutely plastered, that Sans missed that deadly cue. He didn’t even think before yelling, “Why? WHY?!” He grabbed Papyrus’ scarf, pulling him close, too. “Are ‘ya gonna fuckin’_ tell me _what’s goin’ on or do ‘ya just expect me to do it?” He roared in his brother’s face._

_Papyrus’ fuming, ruby eyes searched his face, but didn’t find the obedience he was looking for. His expression fell to something dark, seething, “I expect you to do it.” He threw Sans viciously to the side in dismissal. Sans, who hadn’t even been trying to protect himself in anyway, hit the ground_ hard.

_A sickening crack resounded around their new, empty cottage._

_The royal guard bristled. He straightened his back, staring down at his brother intently with sharp, red eyes._

_Neither of them moved._

_Sans was flat on his face. Slowly, he struggled onto his hands. His right arm wasn’t obeying him very well. A vivid, sharp pain shooting along its whole length. The touch of something grainy between the joints. He took in a deep, steadying breath to replace the ones he’d been deprived of while Papyrus had held him. “Whatever ‘ya say,_ Boss,” _He hissed sarcastically over his shoulder, loathing spat in every word. “I won’t be at the bar.”_

_“Sans,” Papyrus’ demanding, warning tone cracked, “Wai-“_

_Sans fought his feet under him and staggered through a shortcut before Papyrus could catch him. If he wasn’t going to be at Grillby’s;_ good luck _fucking finding him before this injury dusted him first._

 

There was a hand on his skull. It ran down the back of his head, down his spine, and stopped at the small of his back. There was a hand on his skull again. “Red,” someone called.

Were they fucking petting him?

“Don’t touch me,” He tried to snarl, but most of the acid in the tone caught the pillow in his face and came out as nothing more than garbled muffles. He was now aware he was face flat on a mattress as well as eating a face full of pillow.

“oh!” A voice laughed, not intimidated. “well, good morning to you, too!” The lazy tone joked, but the hand left him alone. He felt the mattress shift. “it’s time to get up.”

Morning, huh? He didn’t really want to sleep anymore, but he equally didn’t want to move.

So, he didn’t move.

“Reeeedd,” The lethargic voice called, “you’re the one who keeps asking me to wake you up everyday. don’t make me force you up.”

How did he have such a strong desire not to sleep while simultaneously housing the same desire to not move? “Shut up,” Red groaned into the pillow.

“okay,” the voice taunted.

Something yanked his foot back suddenly, pulling him off of his pillow. It was a wrist clasped around his ankle. Red’s soul skipped a beat. A slow, teasing finger traced along the bottom of his foot. Red bristled. Up from the heel, scraping along his sole, between the toes.

“Heh HEH!” Red barked aloud in an instinctive laugh. Toes wiggling.

He yanked his foot away from the hand, which let him go, in less than a second. Hands clamped over his fangs so he wouldn’t make any more unintentional sounds. He was already caught, though. He peered over his shoulder just enough to see the end of the bed.

Pap was smirking at him from the bottom of the mattress. “ticklish, eyyy~? didn’t know you were so sensitive,” He teased, his smile growing sinister. He wiggled his fingers temptingly before him.

Red scowled at him. “Ass.”

Pap shrugged, flopping down on the mattress next to him. Sprawling across most of it, sparing no room. “when i don’t wake you up; you ask why i didn’t wake you up. when i do wake you up, you call me an ass. i know when i can’t win.”

Oh. He had done that, hadn’t he?

Pap smiled softly over to him at the dejected look on his face. “how do you like to be woken up, Red?”

Red furrowed his brow. He didn’t know. Boss would hit him or pick him up. If he didn’t wake up fast enough, he’d just drop him in the snow outside. That probably wasn’t a normal way to wake someone up. Definitely not a preference. When they’d been little, how had he woken Boss up? He usually just let him sleep, didn’t he? Papyrus had always woken up on his own internal clock. How were you supposed to wake someone up?

How did he not know this?

“N-nevermind. However ‘ya want’s fine.” He looked next to him at the skeleton who was quirking a smile his way. “’M-mornin’, Pap.”

“good morning, Red,” He grinned.

“How long have ‘ya been up?”

“for a while,” He shrugged. “i took a bath and stuff.”

Right. Because he didn’t get to last night. Red sunk into his pillow, blushing. “How’s yer head?” He managed to mumble out past the lump in his throat.

Pap gave him an uncharacteristically enthusiastic thumbs up. “perfectly fine.” It didn’t last long, he flopped his arms back down to the mattress soon enough. Still smiling lazily.

“Good,” Red mumbled, but he smiled, too. It was contagious. He turned his head back to Papyrus, both lazing on the sheets.

“you know,” he noted in amazement, “it’s _actually_ morning this time.”

Red gave a short laugh, “Well, fuck me! I was startin’ ‘ta think it didn’t exist.”

“since we have extra time today, i was thinking we could stop by another place first before the traps.”

Red tilted his head at him, “What do ‘ya mean?”

“you know how there was all that food at Muffet’s that I thought was bad, but you were able to make food out of?”

“Yeah?”

“well i was thinking there might be some other places that have food stored away, too, that i wasn’t checking. i had another friend who had a lot of food. they always ate this dried stuff. no, i mean, it wasn’t dry, but all we would need is water,” he rambled, trying to explain. Red’s smile was growing as he talked so enthusiastically. “well, _if_ it’s still there. we should check.”

“If all it needs is water…” Red trailed off, thinking. “That’d be great,” He echoed his thoughts.

“right?” Pap beamed. “wanna go?”

“Yeah!” If _all_ it needed is water, that would be the goldmine of rations. “L-let me grab my clothes,” Red hopped out of the bed, suddenly feeling like moving.

“oh, so you’ll get up for _food_ , but not for me,” Pap drawled sarcastically dramatic after him.

“Food wouldn’t taste like an ass,” Red shot over his shoulder.

“i’m sure i’m delicious!” Pap shouted out the room after him from the bed for no reason other than to get the last word in. Red ignored the fool as he made his way down the creaky steps. It didn’t take him long to change into his clothes from yesterday that were still in the bathroom. They weren’t clean, sure, but they were the most comfortable, well-fitted thing he had on hand. He’d rather wear these dirty than Pap’s baggy clothes clean. When he came out of the bathroom, Pap was waiting for him.

Red adjusted his jacket as he walked over to him, “So, where we goin’?”

“Undyne’s.”

Undyne? Captain of the Royal Guard? “You were f-friends with Undyne?” Red asked skeptically. He didn’t want to pry too much, but that seemed like a weird pair. Although, Boss and the Captain were together fairly often, he supposed, it was usually work-related matters. A sentry from out in the boonies of Snowdin forest friends with the Captain?

“yeah.” Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be upset over some unpleasant reminder of the past. Pap smirked as he shrugged. “she’s hard to get in touch with sometimes, but she’s not hard to get along with.” Pap offered one hand out for Red to take, slipping his other into his orange hoodie pocket. “ready?”

Red raised a brow at that. Didn’t sound like his Undyne. He considered that thought. “Yeah,” He only hesitated for a second before he grabbed Pap’s hand. The lanky skeleton pulled them into a shortcut, holding tightly onto him. A big hand squeezing onto the little palm. 

Red squeezed back.

They popped out of the shortcut.

Red looked around at their surroundings. A white tiled floor stretched out around them into tall beige walls. There was a messy desk to the side, littered with papers and trash. Half-finished designs and almost illegible scrawlings piled high atop it. There was a large monitor that sat off to the side and a fridge of sorts on the other. Two escalators flanked an upper loft. Monitors and other loose wiring hung down from the metal rafters above them in a disorganized manner. This place was messy, but not as trashed as the last time.

He’d been here before. And last time he had died –almost died- should have died.

Red dropped Pap’s hand, “’Y-ya said we were goin’ ‘ta Undyne’s.”

“this is Undyne’s,” the tall skeleton said, turning to watch Red take a tentative step away, eyes darting around the upper rafters.

They were in the middle of the room. They were wide open here.

“We’re leavin’,” Red growled harshly in a low rumble. He grabbed Pap by the wrist, pulling the tall skeleton protectively behind him. Pap stumbled forward, off-guard. “T-this ain’t Undyne’s. This is the L-Lab. In Hotland.”

He pulled them steadily towards the door, keeping Papyrus safe behind him as he went. He didn’t have a teleport for this place. It was new. Pap would have to take them out. He doubted the front door was just plain open.

“yeah. Undyne’s,” Pap corrected, confused. Following as Red forced him to, without question, but showing no panic in his voice. “where did you think we were going?”

“Waterfall.”

“Waterfall?” Pap tapped his chin, thinking. “maybe she lived there when she was younger, but not in years…”

Red finished checking the rafters but he didn’t see anything up there this time. The lighting was good in here as well, unlike the broken and shoddy lab from his world. He stopped. He was too short to be an effective shield for Papyrus. His eyes darted around to all the corners and hide aways to jump their hunters first, but there wasn’t any life.

Maybe there weren’t any creatures here.

“Red?” Pap asked apprehensively.

Fuck. Pap probably thought he was crazy. He didn’t want to worry him.

Red let go of his hand, dejectedly stepping away from him. He turned to face him. “Sorry,” He mumbled, eyes to the floor. “W-what did’ja wanna get here?”

Pap blinked, but didn’t ask. “Undyne likes to keep these cup noodles around. she won’t tell me where she buys them from, but i always see her eating them. like she’s got an infinite supply. they’ve got to be stored around here somewhere.”

“Oh.” Red responded, distracted, as his eyes still scanned for predators.

There weren’t any.

“Red?” Pap asked again, worriedly.

Red jumped. “Oh! Uh-Y-yeah. I’ll check upstairs.” He dismissed himself quickly, making his way up the moving stairs. He fidgeted agitatedly as they rose. As the steady whirr of the escalator rose him, he glanced over his shoulder back at Papyrus below. He had made his way to the refrigerator and was poking his head inside. Convinced he wasn’t looking, Red summoned a bone in his hand. Turning back towards the rapidly approaching top. It was the only place he hadn’t checked yet.

He crouched low and ready.

The top came into view revealing a wide living area. A quick scan and it appeared to be empty.

Colorful posters littered the wall. There were several bookcases stuffed with what appeared to be DvDs at the end of the space, some unfinished contraptions abandoned around the floor, another television, a large dresser, a nightstand, and the area closest to him was so covered by plush toys he couldn’t really make it out what was under them all. The sight was a rainbow of vomited color.

He didn’t let his guard down. There were so many faces in that mess, one of them could have been real and he could hardly tell the difference. Bone drawn, stance taut, he edged closer to one and knocked it over with his foot. It squeaked.

He stabbed his bone through the back of it.

Nothing came out but stuffing.

Red scowled at it, kicking the shredded toy away. Carefully, he edged closer, knocking each toy over, stabbing a few for good measure, but none of them flinched. None of them moved. None of them were a monster hiding in a pile of fluffy creatures nor a ghost inhabiting padded cartoons. Red checked every one anyway. Underneath them all was apparently some sort of bedding.

“any luck?” Pap shouted up.

Red frowned at his raised voice. He peered over the edge of the loft. Careful to keep his bone out of view. “Nope,” Red responded, “What about you?”

“nothing yet.” He watched Papyrus head off to shift through a pile of boxes against the far wall, scratching the back of his skull in curiosity.

Red turned his attention back to the loft. He edged over to the nightstand and yanked out the drawers, dropping them to the floor. There was nothing in them he was interested in. Next he went to the large armoire. He flung the doors open quickly ready to stab anything inside, but his caution was wasted. Nothing was there, except for an unhealthy amount of lab coats and a single, spotted dress.

What was he even doing? There wasn’t fucking _anything_ in this Universe. He sighed, dropping the bone. Letting it dissipate before it hit the floor.

He looked around at the trail of destruction behind him.

There weren’t any monsters here. There weren’t any creatures here. Oh yeah. There wasn’t any food up here either.

Pacified, Red rode the escalator back down. Though he kept a wary eye over his shoulder, nothing jumped him. And he felt stupid for even doing so. He slipped his hands back into his pockets. As he stepped off the device, the lower floor still appeared lifeless –perfectly safe. A tall skeleton stood off to his right. Red approached Pap, who was rubbing the back of his head in front of a door.

“What’s up?” He called as he approached.

“the doors locked.”

Red frowned, reluctantly glancing to the side. Sure enough, there was a sleek door next to them. A dark keypad off to the side, with a familiar red light that Red could vividly remember hunting out frantically in the darkness. Unearthly shrieks and a flash of steel hot on his back as he skidded in front of it.

Pap typed a few things into the keypad, but they were all rejected. He sighed agitatedly. “if they’re not up here, i can’t think where else she’d put them. this leads to the basement, but it’s been years since i’ve been down there. the code must’ve changed.”

Red didn’t like this. They shouldn’t open that.

“Guess t-this was a bust,” He offered.

Pap seemed to deflate. “yeah,” he sighed miserably, “sorry i dragged you here.”

Fuck it.

There were freaking _stuffed animals_ upstairs. This clearly wasn’t the nightmare of a lab that existed in his universe. This wasn’t the nightmare of a universe he’d come from either. There was a pastry shop in the middle of Snowdin with _lacey tables._ They could add the motherlode of rations to their arsenal if they found this stuff. He might as well try. If it didn’t work, they could leave it as a headache for some other time.

“Lemme try,” Red said, stepping in front of Pap at the door.

He typed it into console.

Mew Mew Kissie Cutie.

The power rumbled to life. The door beeped open. Behind it was a small room. As well lit as the rest of the floor was. Just a narrow space and a keypad on the inside. Red frowned at it. This was the elevator. The elevator he’d dusted on.

No- The elevator he’d almost dusted on.

“should i not ask how you knew that?” Pap asked with a smirk towards his stocky companion.

Red scowled. “I’d rather ‘ya didn’t. Let’s call it a lucky guess.”

Pap walked onto the elevator easily. “ok then,” he said in forfeit, “keep your secrets. i won’t pry,” folding his hands across his chest and leaning against the back wall of the elevator. “thanks for opening the door,” he smiled at him expectantly.

Red glanced off to the side. “S-sure.” He hesitated long enough at the entranceway to draw a concerned look from Papyrus before he stepped onto the elevator. Pap hit the button and the sleek, metal doors shut closed before them. The elevator whirred noisily to life as it took them down to the bottom floor.

Red was hunched and tense against the wall. Agitated. Trying not to think of being slumped on the elevator floor. Trying not to remember his leg falling apart all over the tile into a splay of dust. A child standing over him in the flickering light.

“do you not like elevators?” Pap tested.

“Can’t say I do,” Red huffed, not meeting Pap’s gaze, though he knew he was being watched. He kept his eyes down on his rough sneakers against the polished floor.

At least he was standing this time.

“you can hold my hand.” That coy amusement in his voice.

“ _Tch.”_ He was going to make fun of him, then? “Rather not,” Red hissed indignant.

“i could hold your hand?” He offered.

Red shoved his hands even further into his pockets. “No.”

Despite rejection, a big, slender hand found its way to the top of his skull. It patted his head, a thumb rubbing idly against the bone.

“Goddamn it! Don’t pet me!” Red dodged away from it and Pap laughed as the doors swung open. The light from the elevator bathed a golden rectangle on the tiled floor beyond, but that was the only lighting the room outside provided. The shadows hung thick to the sides of the space, obscuring the walls. A heavy silence shrouded the area.

Red’s soul sank.

But Pap blindly walked off the elevator without a moment’s hesitation.

Numbskull. Of course he has to have some suicidal death wish.

Red scurried off the elevator behind him. Eyes immediately going up to check the ceiling. The rafters weren’t open here. The roof was tiled in. Red breathed a sigh of relief.

Pap was at the wall, clicking something. “hmm. guess the breaker’s out.”

“Let’s go back up.”

There was a humming through the walls. Dim lights lit up one by one down long hallways on either side of the chamber they were in. Not all of the lights turned on, only the ones along the hallways did, the rooms to the sides remained dark. Even of the ones that had turned on, some of them hadn’t, leaving patches of black spots down the endless hallways. As if some of the bulbs had blown out or been in disrepair since long ago. The occasional light flickered with a static murmur.

Pap gave an appreciative whistle. “forgot how big it was down here. no wonder i’ve never found her stash.”

Red felt even more uneasy with so many doors and angles to keep watch of.

“Did you do that?”

“no,” Pap said unfazed. “guess it took a bit for the system to kick back on. it’s pretty old.”

Red frowned, pressed close to the back of Pap’s legs, facing out, in case he had to save him from an attack. Keeping his body on the outside towards the larger, most uncovered area.

Nothing came.

The room they were in was one of the sections that wasn’t graced with light, but there was enough of a glow pouring in from the many connecting hallways to make it out. They were standing in some sort of waiting lobby for the elevator. Old benches were pressed to the sides of the walls. An aged vending machine set against one. As Red wandered over to investigate it, he noticed some old, dried, yet still sticky, substance seemed to be all over it. Covering the buttons and front, pooled on the floor in front of it as a stain, as well as marring the areas nearby the machine. In the poor light, it almost looked like a black ooze. They certainly didn’t want anything from there.

“let’s split up,” Pap announced, glancing around. “i’ll take the left. we’re looking for a stash of cup noodles. little, paper, wide cylinders.”

“Split up?” Red asked incredulously.

“there’s too much ground to cover. it’ll get done faster if we both look in different areas, like we did upstairs.”

“Let’s leav-“

“afraid of the dark, too?” Pap teased, his grin quirking up to the side in pure mirth. “we could stay together. you can hold my hand,” He tempted.

Red scowled up at him. Why was he even worried about this idiot? “I’ll take the right,” He stomped over that way.

“ok. shout if you need something. i won’t be far.”

“Yeah, sure,” Red grumbled, rounding the harsh hook in the rightmost hallway.

It spun to lead him down to areas behind the elevator. The hallway seemed to stretch, what felt like an endless distance, forward dimly lit and flickering the whole way down. Reluctantly, he started checking the rooms one by one as he went down the hallway. All the switches he tried in the rooms refused to turn on, so he was forced to use the shoddy lighting from the hallway to explore the side rooms. Some of them were empty. Some of them had nothing but a few beds. Others had tables and machinery, mid-repair, propped on their surface and others were storage units, with tons of filing cabinets. Those rooms took the longest to search.

None of them held magic noodles in wide, paper cylinders.

He’d come across one of the storage rooms, this hallway light one of the pesky, flickering variety, when he started to feel uneasy. He’d felt anxious since he’d left Pap, but that wasn’t anything new. This room, however, was immediately different than the other ones. There was a sturdy desk in the center of the space, with cabinets below, multiple stacked filing cabinets lined the walls, and two wide bookcases were shoved into one corner. There was a second door to a deeper adjacent room within. A second, dim light flickering from the doorway.

What offset this one from the others was that it was wrecked. The other rooms, despite being weathered and old, had been relatively clean. Or at least seemingly organized. This place was destroyed. Its contents thrown everywhere around the room, like a self-sustaining tornado had blown through. It was hard to even walk into the room with the amount of things on the floor. The only things still on an actual surface were a few opened file folders, a stack of post-it notes, several pencils and pens, and what appeared to be hand-written research papers splayed across the central desk in an unorganized mess.

This mess reminded him of Alphy’s lab.

Of the amalgamates.

Instantly, he was on guard as he stepped into the room, trying not to disturb any of the clutter on the floor so that he could remain as silent as possible. His eyes wandered diligently as he crept around to the back of the table. He didn’t see anything, but he was on edge. He’d been in enough dangerous situations over the years to not dismiss the feeling of eyes watching him from the shadows, even though his scan of the room didn’t reveal anything.

If it felt unsafe; it probably was.

He stayed tense to the point where he even summoned a bone in his hand. Ready. He stayed low listening. As he picked apart the subtle sounds of the large, empty basement, he realized the static sound he heard wasn’t the murmur of the flickering light.

“Hee hee hee!” Three quick bursts of laughter had him whirling behind him, towards the adjoining room. It was faint, but he could hear children’s laughter coming from beyond the wall.

Cautiously, he rounded the door, weapon first. The room beyond had a two bookcases, stocked full with old VHR tapes. There was a television between them. It had a black screen, but there was a low static fuzz coming from the monitor –the static that was separate from the flickering light. A child’s laughter was coming faintly through the speakers, even though there wasn’t an image.

“Oh, Wait! I had the lens cap on…” A soft voice said happily. There was a shuffling sound, but the image never came through. “Do it again!”

“Nope!” Another child’s voice exclaimed proudly.

“Hey, wait,” The shuffling increased, “is this stuck?” The first, soft voice giggled again. “Don’t trick me.”

The video fuzzed and then seemed to repeat. Looping itself endlessly.

Red froze, perplexed, lowering his weapon a bit. He’d heard that laugh before. He’d heard that voice before. That was the kid _._ The human.

There was shuffling behind him. _That_ wouldn’t be from a television. It sounded like papers. Like the dozens of papers littered along the floor.

He spun around again, but nothing was there. He felt uneasy in his current position, an unexplored room behind him and a room connected to an open hallway in front. He was caught in between both risky areas. “Pap?” he called to no response.

 He held his ground, scanning the first room. No one was there. But something was wrong. Something was off.

The notepad and the papers were gone from the desk. In fact, most of the things on the desk were gone. He didn’t buy that they had all simultaneously fallen off the counter.

An amalgamate wouldn’t take the papers from the desk, would it? That had to be something more sentient. Something that thought. Something that planned.

He summoned more red bones to frame around him protectively. As he scanned the room searching for his company, looking over the mess… it _wasn’t_ like the mess the amalgamates had left. As he looked to the things strewn around the room, this wasn’t the senseless destruction of a monster, breaking anything in sight. This was a search. This room had been pillaged.

Like the Inn.

These things hadn’t been knocked around. They’d been discarded to the floor because they weren’t what the thief was after.

He wanted to curse. Why’d he open his big mouth? Now whoever was here knew he wasn’t expecting to be alone. They knew there was another person. Hell. He’d just indirectly dragged Pap into this.

He squinted into the dim room, lit by the flickering light. Complete silence, minus the static. Nothing moved. Nothing looked alive, but that stuff didn’t disappear off the desk into thin air. He started to take a step towards the table.

_Clank, clank, clank._

Behind him.

He spun back around, but nothing obvious was there either. As his eyes trailed down to the sound, there was a large, metal rivet rolling around on the floor. An exaggerated shadow cast from the TV monitor. That hadn’t been there before. It was completely new. He doubted it had fallen from the ceiling since he knew the roof was tiled in. A distraction?

Realizing his error, he spun quickly back the other way just in time to catch a passing shadow dance across the wall out in the hallway.

Fuck.

That was a distraction. They must have thrown it behind him. They were leaving. Normally, he’d be fine with that. Whoever it was could just run away, but they’d gone _left._ Back the way he’d come. The direction Papyrus was in.

Damn it all, he was taking too long to figure all this out!

He darted out the door, sprinting down the hall, but he didn’t see anyone. And that was weird with how long the hallway was, wasn’t it? The way he was running, he was passing so many rooms. Leaving so many areas behind him unchecked. Whatever it was –whoever it was- could easily get behind him like this. He was leaving too many blind spots! His gut was telling him to run all the way to the end of the hall, but his better judgement -years of experience in hostile situations- demanded he stay still. To listen. To check behind him.

Even though he was almost to the end of the hallway, Red froze still. Stance low. Waiting for something to dart out of one of the dark doorways behind him. It felt like there was something there. In the shadows. He was going to get jumped. He was expecting it.

He waited a few painful seconds with no indication…

_Beep._

That was…

The elevator!

Red sprinted to the end of the hall, skidding around the corner into the dark, larger lobby. He came around the edge just in time to watch the last of the golden light trailing out from the elevator disappear as the doors closed shut.

Panting, he walked to the front of the elevator. He stared incredulously at the door for a second, not truly letting his guard down. Over the keypad, there was a yellow sticky note. He pulled it off.

: )

All that was written on it was a smiley face.

He tensed, his guard back up on full.

So, it had been! No –it definitely was that human! But he’d locked them in the Core. How had they gotten out?

He thought of his human. They’d taken him here and gotten him to the Core. But they had done that while he was unconscious. He’d assumed they’d taken him to the Lab and then the Core, but if they had planned to take him to the Core from the beginning, which had seemed like their end goal, why had they taken him to the Lab first? They must have gone _through_ the Lab. The two must have been connected somehow. Somewhere.

He looked up, watching the top of the elevator. The marker indicated it was going up.

Fuck! And he’d just let them out.

Clever shit.

He could still make it. He could teleport to the top and get rid of them. He could end this before it even started. He grit his fangs searching the void for the swirling shortcuts he barely had control of in this location. Finding one that would take him up.

A crash somewhere off to the side broke his concentration. It sounded further away.

_On Papyrus’ side._

No. No, this was wrong, wasn’t it? Were they really leaving? Just like that?

He’d seen that kid fight. He’d seen that kid _play._

They liked games.

They’d told him that they liked games. Because he’d opened his big mouth, they knew Papyrus was here, too. Would they just leave them alone like this? Walk away and take the elevator to the top? Or would they hunt down Papyrus while they sent Red on a wild goose chase to the top of the elevator? It wasn’t like they _didn’t_ already know he could beat them to the top of the elevator. They’d seen him teleport. They’d teleported with him!

So, why would they leave a sticky note?

 He crushed the yellow note in his fist. The floors were going up. He had to choose. Quickly.

It wasn’t even a choice.

“PAP?” Red shouted, dashing off into the shadows on the left.

The fact he didn’t get a response unnerved him all the more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter: 
> 
> : )
> 
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  CHANGE LOG:  
> Chapter 6: Minor Updates  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> Mandatory Recap:  
> Red was afraid of elevators and then the elevator smiled at him.  
> SpoOOoooky~  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

“Pap?” Red called, winding through the left half of the hallways. Ignoring how the flickering lights playing against the walls at the edge of his vision heightened his paranoia. He couldn’t have gone far, could he? Passing all the dark, empty rooms along the sides he tore through the eerie halls. “PAP?” He called more fervently. Desperation in the frantic pace of his soul. The only answer was the static murmur of the lights flickering. “’Ya here?”

He flew down the corridor, rounding the corner at the end into a wider chamber.

He froze.

Pap was in the dimly lit room beyond, but he wasn’t alone. A huge, white, amorphous amalgamate was with him. Pawing its way predatorily towards him as Papyrus backed into the wall. It’s head –or what was expected to be its face- lowering to line up with the lanky skeleton. A huge gaping hole of a maw inching towards him. Something green oozing out of the orifice.

“h-hey there, puppy,” Papyrus smiled nervously at it, waving his hands in surrender defensively in front of his face.

Now that he mentioned it, Red supposed it did resemble a dog. Six huge paws, yet a silhouette that resembled two ears and a tail. Though its body couldn’t really seem to decide on a shape, undulating in a grotesque way when it moved its massive form. The predatory stance did resemble a canine.

And Papyrus; a perfect size for a chewtoy.

Red snarled ferociously. A deep guttural sound ripping through the air; demanding attention. Both Papyrus and the dog spun to look at him.

“Red?”

The ‘dog’ tilted its head at him curiously.

Red took advantage of that distraction. Wasting no time, he impaled it through the head with a sharp, red bone. Its maw –or face- smashed into the wall above Papyrus, cracking against the plaster. It was pinned to the surface by his weapon. A low, animalistic shriek erupting from the dark hole in the creature’s face _._ The shrill cry reverberated around the halls.

Pap stared, horrified, at the creature above him as it thrashed against the wall.

If he wasn’t going to move to safety, Red would do it for him. He grabbed Pap’s soul and launched him away from the danger. Careful not to toss him too hard so that he skidded to a stop ruggedly along the floor instead of smashing into a wall.

He didn’t have the time or the luxury to move him in a more gentle manner.

Red pinged his own soul, throwing it Papyrus’ way. In a matter of seconds, he slid to a stop on his feet between his companion and the beast. Kicking up age-old dust behind him as his worn sneakers skidded along the floor. Six red bones shooting out defensively around him, three on each side.

“Pap,” He called, not looking back, “You ok?”

“what are you doing?”

It was good to hear his voice. Relaxing. Calming. He didn’t _sound_ injured.

He smiled a toothy, sinister grin towards their opponent, keeping his eyes trained forward “Don’t worry, I gotcha,” Red reassured as the creature turned its gaping maw back towards them, freeing its head. Green ooze dripping out of that black maw contrasting against its white shape. A spine-tingling gurgle echoed around the chamber from its direction.

Low. Dangerous.

He launched his summoned bones at the beast. Each hitting home, drawing forth an unpleasant howl as the monstrosity shook the pain off. Whipping its head around. It pranced on its paws, tousling its shapeless body, trying to shake free the bones that had lodged in its form. It ended its cry with a low growl. Angled their way. It was going to charge.

He took a step back.

“Red, s-“

Red threw Papyrus across the room again, out of harm’s way. Spinning around to run as the beast barreled forward in the narrow space. Stomping the spare cots that sat in the middle of the room with ear-splitting crashes. Massive paws thudding against the tile. Pursuing him. Red dashed the opposite way.

He tried to grab its soul to fling the beast away, but… he couldn’t find one.

_It didn’t have one!_

It was closing in.

Fuck. He didn’t have any shortcuts down here!

He rolled to the side at the last second, sliding across the floor, as the dog trampled past wildly. It was out of control. Red watched it go by. It was undeniably going to crash into the opposite wall at full force. However, like a pause button, it stopped before it did. Its legs shifting _through_ that amorphous body, reversing its shape. The maw of a face snapping a full one eighty around with little effort or discomfort. Completely turning the entire creature in a few brief seconds. Barreling, once again, towards Red.

Maybe it had more control than he thought.

No time for thoughts. No time to consider its capability. He had to dodge –while still lying on the floor from his former roll! He grabbed his soul and launched it up, flinging himself into the air. This place was too short for sweeping motions like that. Red smashed painfully into the tile on the roof, right as the dog ran under him. Where he had been only seconds before.

Red made it work.

Gritting through the blow he summoned a barrage of bones around him. Shooting them down at the beast. Raining a ballistic attack down on it. As he fell, he summoned his own favorite weapon; a large, red bone. No edge. No bite. Just a vicious club for an unsuspecting victim. As he fell, he spun as he did, gaining momentum. He smashed the bone down harshly into the amalgamate’s back.

It hit.

All of the attacks had hit.

But this beast –this creature –this _thing_ \- didn’t have _any_ health.

There was no HP reduction. No dust to signify a blow landed. Yet, it leaked like the human did; a green liquid seeping out of the wounds. It howled an unearthly noise, thrashing in pain, but it only seemed to get angrier.

Not weaker.

Red blinked in disbelief at the ineffective blow to its back. He didn’t have time to react before the beast started thrashing.

He stumbled, perched on its back, at the violent movement. He should have fallen off. He should have been thrown from the creature. Cast aside by the rough treatment.

Yet he stayed where he was.

Red let go of his favorite bone club quickly. It was lodged halfway into the beast’s flesh and quickly swallowed by the amorphous body. But that wasn’t all.

He was sinking.

His feet were being swallowed, too. Slowly consumed by that grotesque, shapeless body. Eating _anything_ that touched it.

He reeled backwards, away from the vile flesh, but he was stuck. He couldn’t get his legs free. Tug as he might, he couldn’t get his damn legs free!

He yanked and he pulled but his feet were tethered to that gooey white substance the creature was made of. That squelching suction pulling him down. Panicked, he couldn’t keep his balance on the thrashing abomination. Red fell forward, catching himself with his hands.

Which began to sink into the amorphous flesh, too.

And he was still sinking. He was still stuck.

Red tugged and fought and thrashed himself, but it was no use. That only made it worse. He was going down. It was going to eat him! It was going to swallow him whole. He was going to be consumed into that disgusting, vile, undulating flesh.

Red reeled his head back, so it wouldn’t touch it, too. But it was only a matter of time.

He was down deep past his elbows and knees in that sickening, wet flesh when gravity gripped his soul. Pinging it a soft, familiar color. It had to pull him _hard_ to dislodge him from the substance, but thankfully, he popped free. Unfortunately, as a consequence, he slammed hard into the tile as he skidded across the floor away from the beast to Papyrus’ feet.

His protest cut the air, “Red, stop! it’s just a monster!”

Red didn’t have time to listen to him. That _thing_ was lining up another attack.

“No,” Red growled low, rolling onto his stomach. Refusing to tear his eyes away from the white, amorphous form across the room contrasting sharply against the darkness. “That’s no monster.”

It didn’t have health. It didn’t have a soul! _That thing_ was no monster. He wasn’t even convinced it was alive.

The amalgamate snarled, crouching low on its six legs to charge back his way. Dead set on taking Red out. But Papyrus was behind him again. It would hit them both. Red snarled back, summoning dozens of bones around him. Practically forming a protective wall between him and Pap with the ruby attacks. Locking himself in with the beast. He was not going to let that thing hurt Papyrus. He’d rather be dust.

“stop!” Pap cried.

He wasn’t going to give it the first move; Red charged first.

Running straight at the beast to hopefully keep its attention on him and not Papyrus. “Over here, Goopy!” He taunted with malice, veering towards the side. Summoning his crimson bone club back into his hand. It’s vivid color serving as a beacon to the small skeleton’s position. When its maw turned to follow him, he attacked.

The amalgamate’s gaze was on him; distracted. Red smirked triumphantly, betraying his intentions. The floor rumbled ominously. With a flick of his wrist, three of the largest bones he’d ever summoned burst from the floor. Erupting through the ground and sending broken tile flying around the room. With quick precision they shot into the side of the creature. Drawing forth an unsettling shriek.

“don’t hurt it!” Pap’s desperate voice cut through the noise.

Don’t hurt it?

Was he seeing the same thing Red was? Those bones went _through_ it. Pierced all the way to the other side. It should be dead. It should be cut clean in two. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t hurt _at all_. It shrieked and it leaked, but it was far from being dusted.

Red growled in the back of his throat. Disappointed with the failed attempt. It wasn’t going down. He dismissed the bones and the abomination stumbled to the side to regain its balance. Its form shook unsteadily, but the creature remained whole. No HP drop. No signs of falling. When it seemed to have shaken off the pain once again, a prolonged growl heightened into a crescendo as the imposing creature turned its attention back to Red.

So, it wasn’t giving up yet, huh?

That was fine. He could fight it.

Red didn’t like to rely on these because it ate up so much magic, but fighting this impossible battle was grounds for pulling out all his cards. Using his full deck. He had to have his entire arsenal at his disposal to win this. Blasters were leeches. They could burn through his whole magic reserve in a matter of seconds. On their current diet, he probably wouldn’t be able to hold more than one.

_So, he summoned two._

Normally, he’d be more careful. Normally, he’d be afraid of dusting with his fragile physique if he pushed himself too far. But everything he’d been through so far had proven to him he wasn’t dying anytime soon. 

Two, large, fanged skulls crept into existence at his sides. Ominously looming over his shoulder.

The bite to his magic was harsh. Unforgiving. He was expecting it. He steeled himself against the steady, threatening plummet of his magic reserve. He felt that uncomfortable dip when it hit the point well below what it should be at.

Yet he was still standing.

 “listen to me!” Pap wailed from the other side of the bone wall. “please!”

He could hear the frantic panic in his voice, but if he wanted to protect Pap; Red had to keep his concentration on the blasters. His magic was well past zero at this point. If he lost them now, he wouldn’t be able to summon them a second time.  A threatening light grew in their mouths. Illuminating him in an eerie backlight.

And even now; he was still standing.

Certain he wouldn’t dust, he smirked deviously over at the amalgamate. He could blow it to smithereens like this. If the freakshow ate all his physical attacks, what would it do with a blast of pure, charged energy? If he wasn’t going to dust; he could use the blasters unlimited! He could zap the beast until it was nothing but a smoking pile of goop on the floor. He swallowed down the red bile he felt rise at the back of his throat. His grin grew as the blasters charged their beams.

He could win like this.

He felt powerful. Even the mutt seemed to notice that fact. It growled at him, retreating a step backwards towards the wall.

Red took a threatening step forward. Pursuing it. Hand raised. Ready to call the attack of the blasters down for his bidding. For destruction.

“Red!” Pap screamed. Agonized. Hurt.

And the sound dropped him like a ton of bricks smashing into concrete.

No, literally. The second Pap screamed a heavy weight fell around his soul. Smashing him straight into the tile. The blow immediately breaking his concentration so he lost the safety of the blasters that had been at his side. The gravity holding him down. Pinning his soul in place like it had that day in the freezing snow when Red had tried to join the fight with Chara. He wasn’t powerful. He wasn’t strong.

He was helpless.

Except this time, his enemy wasn’t just playing around. This enemy wasn’t here for shits and giggles and cruel laughs. The formless canine seemed to clue in the second its prey lost his edge. It took a step towards him.

Red couldn’t scuffle away from it, though he tried. Pulling himself backwards across the tile. His heavy soul scraping along the floor. It wasn’t nearly fast enough. He was held down. Stuck against the tile.

“P-Pap! Let me up!”

The creature closed in. Taking slow, grim steps his way. It’s massive form looming over him. A low growl in the back of its throat.

Pap was freaking out. Holding his head in his hands. Eyes shut like he didn’t want to see this. “no! no! it’s just a-“

“PAP!” Red screamed.

The creature dove at him.

He didn’t have teleports. He didn’t have magic. He couldn’t move.

That great, black maw surrounded him.

He braced himself for the impact. For the pain he knew was coming.

He wasn’t ready.

It crushed down around him as he was swallowed into the jaw. The inside of its putrid mouth hadn’t looked like it had teeth, but once he was inside he was aware of that error. There were dozens –hundreds- of tiny razor-like pricks lining the inside of its maw. His thick leather jacket provided a little protection against the protrusions, but the rest of him _hurt._ He tried to scramble up along the rough surface of its throat towards the light before the blackness could consume him, but his soul was weighing him down. Phalanges slipping along the slick, green drool impeding his progress. He slid into the darkness. He didn’t get very far before the maw constricted around him. Crushing him against hundreds of little razors. Pressing him into the pool of acidic green ooze that coated the bottom of its throat-like mouth.

“AAAUUGGHHHHH!” He screamed against the pain as hundreds of knives dug into his bone. Crunching him between rows of teeth. Acid flaring through the fresh wounds. It felt like it lasted an eternity. This pain certainly would have killed him before. Even though he didn’t dust; he knew it.

He was going to die here. He wasn’t going to dust. He was going to be eaten!

There was a roaring boom from beyond his painful prison that cut through the air obscuring his scream. He slipped further down the black maw as the walls that had been holding him fell away and rumbled as the creature let loose a shriek of its own. It was so loud, piercing sharply through his ears. Ringing in his skull. As he felt its head begin to thrash, he feared he’d be thrown even further down its throat. He dug his hands painfully into the rows of tiny, black teeth to try and hold himself on. Using the friction of fresh wounds to keep him still. He grit his teeth through the pain. As he looked up he could see the exit. It wasn’t very far.

So, he began to climb.

Smashing his hands over and over again down into the razors, using them as holds as he climbed towards freedom. Acid sizzling against his bone. Shrieks and whimpers, amplified by his proximity, ringing through the blackened throat. Terrified the shaking walls would decide to crush him again.

Then, he made it to the light.

He fell unceremoniously out of the amalgamate’s mouth, smacking harshly with a wet thud against the tile. He didn’t even have the voice to grunt at the unpleasant landing. He blinked his eyes open, revealing the vision above him where the abomination still loomed.

It was thrashing its maw about and whimpering, smoke rising away from it.

Two blasters hung in the air around them, charging a second attack. Dangerous light flickering behind their jaws. Crackling energy that both lit the air with light and robbed it from the dark room. A strobe effect that made the moment all the more surreal. In the bursts of light he could tell those blasters weren’t the ones he had lost. They were too big. They were huge. Those weren’t his.

 “Red!” His soul was pinged and he flew across the tile to the relieved call of his name. Papyrus scooped him off the floor into his waiting arms. He held him in his usual hold. Red’s feet to either side of his torso, seated on one of the tall skeleton’s arms, his head thrown over a shoulder to the view of dark tile behind them. He should be mad, but, for now, he was just relieved. Red slumped limply into the hold. Too exhausted to try to hold himself up.

Papyrus didn’t squeeze him tighter to steady him. His attention seemed to be elsewhere as he mumbled over to him, “don’t worry. i’ve got you. we’re leaving now.”

The vicious boom of two blasters firing again rang throughout the room. Accompanied by an animalistic wail.

Papyrus spun on his heel and ran them out of the chamber, giving Red a good view of the aftermath of the battle over the jostling shoulder. The blasters faded into nothing as Papyrus’ concentration no longer bound them to this world. The beast trembled and thrashed, two large smoking wisps wafting away from it, but it _shook off_ the attack. Red couldn’t believe it. He didn’t think it could die.

A ferocious growl ripped through the air. Now enraged, he saw the creature begin to lunge after them right as they spun around the corner. The beast didn’t smash into the wall when it missed them; it paused morphing its body around. Correcting its trajectory to pursue them.

Papyrus didn’t teleport them to safety. Red surmised, after using two blasters; he probably couldn’t. The tall skeleton sprinted as fast as he could, clutching Red close in his arms, down the long hall. He was so fast, much faster than he’d expect the lazy skeleton to be able to move, but it wasn’t nearly fast enough.

That thing was following them.

It shot down the hall at an incredible speed, like a terrible phantom ghosting along the floor. He couldn’t hear the thudding of massive paws anymore, but there was a banging as it rampaged down the hall. Knocking against the tight walls and doorways. He thought it had looked too big to fit into the hallway, but he should’ve known better with that amorphous body it had! As he peered behind them over Papyrus’ shoulder, it had squeezed itself into the corridor. Its horrible form took up the _entire hallway,_ from wall to wall and ceiling to floor. That haunting black maw in the center of it all, rapidly closing in on them in the flickering light.

It was going to catch them.

He felt Pap’s arms tighten around him.

Red had to stop it. Or slow it down. Or something.

He hurt all over. His bones felt like they were on fire, but he willed himself to move. Red readjusted one arm around Pap’s neck to hold on more tightly as he raised the other one over Pap’s shoulder. Stretching a bloodied, damaged hand out at the creature.

He could do this. He’d held the blasters past the point of no magic. He’d almost fired them with zero reserves. A few bones would be nothing.

He took aim at the creature rampaging after them. Willed the bones to come into existence and…

It _stung._

Dipping into the magic of his very soul. The bones answered him. He wasn’t ready for the way he was affected as the magic that sustained his very life burnt away. The air constricted around him. His vision immediately started to fade with the cost. Pain tore through his arm begging not to be held up. He dropped the summon before it could do any real damage.

But the creature was so close to them. It could almost bite down.

Pap was still running. Panting just behind his ear. He was tired, too, but he wasn’t giving up. Sprinting steadfast down the hallway despite the massive chaos that could be heard behind them. Splitting their ears with the thundering sounds of pursuit.

Red grit his fangs. Held on again. Securing his hold around Pap’s neck. This time steeling himself against the cruel burn.

He reached his broken, whittled hand out again. The amalgamate was so close. If it bit down, it could take off his arm.

With his soul’s magic he summoned a barrage of bones stabbing into the creature, slowing its pursuit. Launching his bones viciously down its open mouth to its stomach or insides or wherever that black hole lead. His vision was dark by the time the bones actually came to his call, but he heard the satisfying, deafening wail of pain echo out from behind them.

He let his vision flicker back into view before he tried once more.

The creature was further behind them now, but once again was quickly catching up. At least he’d managed to slow it down. It was worth it to keep going. They’d need all the ground they could get in this race for their lives. It was too fast. The abomination would surely catch them if left alone. He needed to delay it as much as he could.

He drew on his soul once more, summoning huge bones to smash through the floor and form a cage in the hallway behind him. First vertically. Then a second diagonally. Then a third horizontally. The massive red bones smashed through the walls in a violent display. They formed so suddenly, the creature was caught off guard. It slammed into the sudden wall at full speed, drawing a sickening cry from the beast.

Red tried to grab some panted breaths from the air caught in his throat. He felt some red bile dribble down his chin between his fangs. His vision took longer to return this time.

He’d knocked the amalgamate back some again, but it had obviously squeezed through his trap. Morphed through the very bars. It was gaining back its lost ground. Ever looming behind them.

Then, it was gone.

Out of sight as Pap skidded around the corner into the dark lobby. Wasting no time to beeline for the safety of the elevator.

…And almost smacked straight into the closed metal doors.

“fuck!” He heard him curse, followed by the frantic clicking of buttons.

Fuck was right! Thanks to its last occupant, the elevator was at the top floor right now! That thing was going to catch them for sure. He could hear the banging from down the hall nearing. He had to hold it off. Bones weren’t going to hold it long enough for them to get onto the elevator.  He’d need something bigger. Riskier.

He’d rather shatter his own soul than let that thing eat him again.

With his soul’s magic he urgently called the Blaster. It was a good thing it was a straight shot down the hallway because his vision failed the second he summoned it. There was no way he was going to be able to aim.

He fell lifeless in Pap’s arms, sagged into his hold against the larger skeleton. Determination alone held the blaster in existence. One hand held up like a puppet on a string. His eyelights guttered out. He couldn’t see, but he could hear the Blaster roar to life. Heard the crackle of its charge.

He fired.

A long, steady beam sizzling down the hallway. Drawing a fierce, unearthly shriek.

It hurt.

His soul hurt.

But he could hold it. It was just until the elevator came.

He felt weak. Starved.

The blaster’s beam roared on.

It hurt.

_Crack…_

It hurt.

_Crack._

_It hurt!_

_Beep!_

He felt Papyrus hastily drag him onto the elevator.

He let the blaster go. Like spots, his vision unwillingly ebbed back to him.

Red felt uneasy, like the air was caught in his throat. He tried to hack it free, but when he finally did, instead of air, a spray of red littered the floor. Soaking the back of Pap’s hoodie. Dying it a sick, dark crimson. Seeping down his fangs to pool into the larger puddle amassing further below him on the floor.

His vision had returned, but it was whirling. It made him feel even worse.

“Red?” Pap called fearfully. Red kept hacking, violently coughing up spurts of blood. His chest convulsed painfully. It was a stiff and unnatural movement. “Red?!” Pap yelled. He felt the arms hitch in alarm around him, squeezing him close for a brief second. Red didn’t fight the movement. He couldn’t. He couldn’t feel his legs. Or his spine. Or his arms. His now ruined hand just hung limply over the shoulder were he’d cast the blaster, dripping a trail of red onto the tile.

 

_He let his eyes flicker out. He didn’t’ want to see his hands disintegrate anyway._

_“Sans?” A little hand dug firmly into his coat sleeve. “Sans…” and the calm and collected voice broke for a second, “stay with me. Please don’t die.” But the plea couldn’t stop his leg from shriveling into dust. Begging couldn’t stop the world from fading into an uncomfortable darkness._

Then, the ceiling of the elevator fuzzed into view above him. He didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to look. He was on his back now, staring at the top of the elevator. Two big hands on either side of his face. He couldn’t feel them, but they must have been shaking him because his vision was jostling to their motions. A familiar skull above him. Sharp cheekbones. A strong chin. Panicked, fiery orange eyes. A buzz ringing somewhere far off behind him. The faint shrill hum blotting out the words he could see Papyrus belting out, but couldn’t hear.

 

_And he should have listened._

_Papyrus was so pissed. He wrapped the coarse fabric of the makeshift bandage around Sans’ leg so tightly he thought it was going to crack. He was littered with fresh nicks in his dull bones. A severe abrasion up the length of his femur._

_“B-But it was a good deal,” He tried to protest. Eyes darting around their living room from the couch, anywhere but landing on Papyrus’ piercingly disappointed eyes. “He offered a lot.”_

_Papyrus slammed a fist into the floor next to where he was kneeling. “It’s not about the_ money, _you stupid fuck!” He brought his hands up, wringing, like he was going to choke Sans, but then let them fall away. He spun his attention back to the injuries. Perhaps deciding not to risk what little was left of Sans’ health. Face still seething._

_“I told you to let_ me _pick who your goddamn clients were!” He roared, wrapping another bandage even tighter around the little skeleton’s other leg as he set the bone. Sans winced, jerking into the sofa’s rather uncomfortable cushions. The motion went unnoticed by Papyrus as he raged on. “Why? Why don’t you ever listen? Just do what I say!”_

_“S-sorry, Boss,” He stammered out flatly. His eyes fell to the snowy forest floor at his brother’s heeled boots. He didn’t care anymore._

_His cheek stung uncomfortably, but this was nothing. Papyrus had gotten so violent. Everything was grounds for an attack. For retaliation. Each hit just added onto a larger pile of wounds. Yet he couldn’t even say he didn’t deserve them. He’d earned every one. And he’d grown so indifferent to them all._

_Calling him Boss had once felt like a small victory, but by now Papyrus seems to have grown indifferent to the nickname himself._

_“You cry and cry about wanting me to talk to you, but then you_ Never. Listen. _Do you?” He snaps angrily, squeezing Sans’ cheeks roughly to jerk his face back up to him._

_“Sorry, Boss,” He says automatically on a dead, apathetic repeat, still trying to cast his eyes to the floor. Refusing to look him in the eye, despite the larger skeleton’s iron grip yanking his face up. His sharp talons dig into Sans’ fragile cheekbones._

_Boss sneers at the tone._

_“I don’t want your excuses, brother,” Boss demands, judging him with utter contempt. “I want results. Do it!”_

_But these were_ Boss’ _kills. Sans had hardly done anything during that fight. Let alone offer enough assistance to earn a cut of the spoils. These monsters were Boss’ EXP. He’d done all the hard work. Plus, Boss had been so consumed with gaining experience lately, like climbing through the levels was all he cared about. He sought after the next level with nearly a one track mind. It was weird he’d pass up the chance at some free experience._

_Sans frowns skeptically, eyes falling to the prisoners lined up along the snowy ground in the forest. Well, they wouldn’t be prisoners for very long. If Boss wanted him to, why was he even arguing? It wasn’t like Boss would share_ why _he wanted him to kill. It wasn’t like he hadn’t killed before either._

_It wasn’t like he cared._

_“I’m waiting,” Boss taps his foot impatiently, crossing his arms across his sleek black armor. He narrows his eyes in Sans’ direction. That short temper flaring to the surface._

_Sans knows when he’s kept Boss waiting too long. With a flick of his wrist, he summons a small dagger-like bone. As instructed, he finishes off each of the captives pinned to the floor one after the other. Sliding the roughly edged blade between the ribs of each victim with quick force. Two of them scream. One only thrashes. They’re all shortly dust. Whatever kind of lives they’d tried to cling to; gone._

_He doesn’t feel bad._

_He doesn’t feel much of anything._

_They were trash, anyway. Deemed criminals by even the average citizen’s standards. Bad enough to have the Guard sent after them. Their deaths provide just enough experience to push him over to the next level._

**_Level 5_ **

**_HP 1_ **

**_ATK 7_ **

**_DEF 12_ **

_He’s not surprised his stats were so low. They always were._

_He can audibly hear Boss seethe to the side, before he glances nervously over his way. Boss kicks up a fuss, cussing and stomping the snow into submission beneath his boot. “PATHETIC!” He bellows, flinging and wringing his hands in the air as he spins around in a circle of anger. As though he might kick up the first snow twister Snowdin’s ever seen._

_Sans watches him go in a mixture of horror and amusement. He lets the bone shatter, slipping his hands back into the comfort of his leather coat. A smile creeping onto his face watching Boss dissolve into a childish tantrum._

_The tall skeleton begins to stomp away down the snowy path. “How do you still only have ONE HIT POINT?!”_

_“You thought-! ‘Ya thought I was gonna get a hit point? Heh heh heh!” Sans bursts into laughter, almost falling over into the snow. Holding his stomach like it was the best damn joke he’d heard all year._

_So that was why he gave up his kills!_

_Since when had he cared so much about Sans’ stats?_

_He couldn’t stop laughing. “Heh heh! Boss –oh Boss!” He tries to call him back as he chases after the black armor down the path. “Boss it’s a-always been_ one point!” _He chuckles out between laughs, reaching to grab the fuming skeleton’s arm and slow him down._

_“I KNOW THAT!”_

_His deadly serious tone wipes the grin off of Sans’ face._

_He’s upset._

_He’s angry._

_At_ him.

_“It’s a fucking disgrace!” He snarls in frustration, whirling on Sans, eyes hot, taloned glove raised to strike._

_Sans winces for the impact he knows is coming._

_A small prick, and then pain._

_Horrible pain._

_It shot through him like a wildfire laced with acid, but smothered him like sulfur. The disease spreading throughout his bones. There’s something cold beneath him and he thrashes against its surface. He realizes there’s something horribly wrong. Something missing._

Pieces of him are missing.

_He couldn’t see, but he could_ hear _himself screaming._

_And that monster sure did like to yell. It was causing quite the ruckus, but this far out in the woods, no one was going to hear him. Sans was the only sentry stationed this far out in Snowdin forest. No one would come to save him._

_“P-please,” the large roach-like monster begged, “let me go!”_

_Sans was lounging on a dead, snow covered log in the wooded clearing as the snow danced down. He had cast one sleeve over his face, burying his eyes in his leather coat, so he could blot out the morning light. A good snooze would get his magic back up. Around the lazing form sat the aftermath of a battle. Snapped trees, smoking craters, discarded weapons, and dozens of red bones lodged into the pines. Three of them impaled the cockroach to the snowy ground._

_Its friends had tried to struggle in the bonds and had dusted. Only what was left of their clothes lay around in scattered piles in the various places they’d met their end. The roach had caught on to the trick and had wisely held still. Unfortunately, he had resorted to pleading._

_“Please!”_

_“Weren’t’cha just braggin’ ‘bout how ‘ya were gonna off some member of the Royal Guard?” Sans mumbles, not really interested in its pleas, but bored enough waiting for it to die to waste some time._

_“But not you! No, no, no, no! We weren’t going to hurt_ you. _I have friends-connections- let me go and I could help you out!”_

_“Now we’re talkin’,” Sans hummed in his most friendly voice. The kind he used to talk up a bar or customer. “I might be interested in an offer like that,” He rumbled low, swinging his feet over the side of the log, sitting up. The snow is dislodged from his furred hood and danced down to the ground. The monster was being too noisy to sleep, anyway. He throws a toothy fanged grin his captive’s way. “What’cha have in mind? Information? Favors? Blackmail?”_

_“F-favors! Yes! I have friends in the city who owe me. I’ll call in a favor for you! They will kill any monster you want! Any!” In his enthusiasm he moves once against the bones and knocks off a fair chunk of his health. He falls still once again._

_“Buddy,” Sans says unmoved, lazily motioning to the dust around them, “I ain’t that impressed with yer ‘friends’, they couldn’t even kill_ me. _‘Ya really think there’s some monster that you could kill that I couldn’t?”_

_“Stronger friends! Better friends. Professionals. T-t-they could help you out. Word on the street is you are having trouble with the new Officer. He knows all your moves. All your tricks. He’s your brother, yes? He treats you poorly, yes? He hurts y-“_

_Sans kicks the red bone and he promptly falls into dust._

_Why does everyone say that?_

_Was that the rumors now? They didn’t know anything about Boss! About him! He hardly wanted Boss dead. He was the only thing keeping his sorry ass alive._

_With a frustrated sigh he falls back to the log on his spine. Laying across the dead wood. Hands balled into fists against his sockets, trying to press out the growing migraine he felt forming behind his skull._

_They didn’t know a damn thing!_

_He winces when his fingers dig too tightly into his palm. He quickly draws the hand back squinting against the morning light to see it. There is a large, vivid groove cut across his palm, but it wasn’t from the battle. These goons hadn’t touched him. This particular cut wasn’t recent. This one was Boss’ work. It was a week or so old by now. He’d forgotten he’d had it._

_He was losing track of them all. Every nick, every crack, every dent, every groove was just a reminder to how fragile he really was. He was so easy to shatter._

_The morning rays seep through the uneven cuts in the silhouette of his hand at just the right angle._

_He blinks against the blinding light._

And it’s a lot darker. And the hand is now bandaged. His head is killing him. When had his migraine gotten so bad? His skull is pounding, like every nightmare he’d ever had was trying to escape from the inside of his skull –by going through it. Instead of the morning light, he winces against the pain throbbing in his mind. He’s so exhausted it’s hard to keep his eyes open.

He spares a glance to the side, letting his head flop feebly against the plush pillow.  When had he gotten home? His room is a mess. There’s clothes strewn all around the place in messy, unorganized piles. And… maybe even some empty jars? A sharp pang in his mind protests thinking about it too deeply. He’ll clean it up later. Now wasn’t the time.

His hand had been treated. It may have been a bit late. Actually, it was long overdue. Regardless, he felt a bit …happy?

He turns the appendage over before his gaze, admiring Boss’ handiwork. The bandaging is a bit overdone for such a small gash. It’s comical, really. Sans can’t help but crook his teeth to the side in a lopsided grin.

His palm has been cocooned in gauze. So poorly done, it literally forms a ball of bandages. Like the person who’d wrapped it had been so worried about the injury, they didn’t know when to stop. Five skeletal fingers poked out of the white sphere. Each wrapped excessively in tape. Strangely enough, these bandages have been dirtied. Each stained a deep red. Splotches of the vivid color soaking through the white cloth.

It was weird Boss would use dirty bandages, but he wouldn’t complain.

Experimentally, he bends the fingers seeing how far they’ll go. It’s a stiff movement that sends a surprising –no- _an_ _alarming_ amount of pain jolting down his whole arm. He sucks in a sharp breath of air as his vision fails with darkening speckled spots in retaliation. He suddenly feels very weak.

 

 

_His feet immediately gave out from under him._

_He fell. Landing in the snow on his butt. Sitting in the freezing cold, holding the top of his skull in his hands. The spot where Boss’ hand pounded down on his cranium hurt, but he didn’t think there were any new cracks. He couldn’t feel any –or at least any of note._

_“Damn,” Sans cusses under his breath, rubbing his head. He strains his eyes shut against the dull ache, but slowly he opens one to look up at Boss towering over him. Teeth snarling, hands crossed across his chest, shadow imposing down._

_He’s pissed._

_“If I say jump; jump! If I say duck; duck! You don’t need a reason. Just do it. I don’t have time to explain every little action to you, brother! I will_ not _tolerate you wasting my precious time with these useless inquiries any longer!” He narrows his eyes condescendingly down at Sans, “So, you’d better listen.” He hangs the sentence in the air, letting a silent threat follow._

_There wasn’t any fair warning, but it’s spoken in his body language alone._

_Boss’ back straightens, amplifying his commanding presence even more. His expression goes dark enough to match his armor. His usual grimace taut with a displeased frown. There’s a telltale twitch of his taloned glove before he reaches out._

_Even then, even though he sees it, even though he_ knows, _Sans isn’t fast enough to get away._

_Not for lack of trying._

_Claws snatch him by the back of the vertebrae on his neck before he can so much as blink an apology. They rob him of air. Of movement. Of freedom. Boss drags his strangling prey back through the snow closer to him. “Did you just question me?”_

_“I-I-!”_

_It had just slipped out. It was an accident._

_‘Why are we going home this way?’_

_He hadn’t thought it counted as talking back. Maybe it had been his tone of voice? Was it the phrasing? Or something he did?_

_His phalanges struggle with the hold around his neck that’s stealing his breaths and excuses away._

_“Then,” Boss hisses, patience thin, malice dripping. “Did you try to_ run from me _?” His hold tightens down around his spine and the vertebrae creak in protest. Boss holds him there; held in that precarious place, seconds from snapping, before he’s lifted by his neck and thrown brutally to the ground._

_His face smashes into the floorboards none too gently. He may have a new dent on his temple. It’s unimportant. Sans struggles back onto his hands. Coughing to try and fetch the relief of fresh air, but Boss follows it up with a vicious kick to his side._

_The little skeleton goes skidding across the living room floor with the blow, clutching at his ribcage. Completely immobile._

_Fuck!_

_He pants, gently cradling the rib Boss’ boot had smashed into._

_One of these days, Boss was going to hit him so hard he was going to actually dust him. He was lucky that one hadn’t hit the rib the wrong way. It was still intact._

_He winces anyway. Hands trembling as he tries to press the pain out of the bone. The little skeleton attempts to sit up, but the ache in his side protests obnoxiously. He decides it’s too soon. He flops back to the floorboards with a grunt._

_Boss stalks towards him. Heels clicking against the wood in a menacing manner that makes his soul chill._

_He doesn’t have to wonder if the sudden silence of the familiar footsteps means Boss has caught up with him. His head is picked up and slammed back down into the dirty street in violent confirmation._

_“Ack!”_

_Several onlookers gasp, while others scuttle away quickly down the roads avoiding the battlefield altogether before they got caught in the crossfire. They needn't worry. This was a one-sided fight._

_“Why even bother?” He hisses low in Sans’ ear. Stepping on him beneath his boot as he leans down. “Have I not already proven enough that I can find you no matter where you go?”_

_He was right. Why did he bother? Every time he teleported away, Boss would always inevitably find him; no matter where he went. Once he caught him, the punishment was always twice as bad. He’d just thought, Boss wouldn’t go all the way to the city looking for him! Or maybe that he wouldn’t bother if he had to go out of his way that far. How had he tracked him down this time, anyway?_

_The thoughts are flung from his mind when Boss picks up his head and slams it back down again._

_“Well?” He demands loud enough for the audience to hear._

_That wasn’t rhetorical? Sans doesn’t answer. His skull’s too wracked with pain. When bone met rock; neither had a good time. Especially not the bone._

_What was the question? He can’t focus._

_He whimpered instead._

_Boss must find the silence displeasing because he smashes Sans’ head down again. Even more roughly than the first two._

Crack.

_The sound is faint, but audible._

_He can feel Boss flinch above him at the noise._

_He feels his health point waver._

_It’s hardly the first time, but his soul still hitches in fear._

_“Weakling,” Boss hisses. He always breathed it out like a cussword. Yet when something cracked, the violence always suddenly came to a halt. Boss is off of him in a second, hauling him to his feet. Sans’ head is reeling. Too dizzily to keep himself upright. He stumbles and falls to the side. Before he can smash back into the floor, he can feel Boss’ strong arms scooping him up, but his vision is already darkening._

He can’t see anything, but he feels the hand on his skull. It’s soft. Gentle. It rubs down the back of his cracked cranium, then dips to curve down under his chin before it disappears. It rubs down the back of his skull again, curving around to his cheek. The long fingers hold there for a second. A thumb stroking tenderly below his socket.

“shhh. you’re okay,” A quiet, comforting voice promises.

Sans can’t decide if he likes the feeling of the hand or not. He fights to open his eyes. It proves to be a more difficult battle than he was expecting. He barely manages to open them a sliver, blinking profusely against the lights.

Everything is just blurry. But he can faintly make out a tall figure sitting in front of him. A cool glow backlighting the darkened stranger. He’s lying on something soft. It’s warm and comfortable. He realizes it’s a skeletal hand as it runs its course down the back of his head again.

He decides it feels nice.

“shh, shh, shh,” the voice drones on in a peaceful droll. “i’m here with you.” Sans doesn’t know why he finds that so soothing, but he relaxes into the sheets. Shutting his eyes once more. Calming to the pace of the gentle strokes along his skull. He feels sleep weigh on his mind.

_But this isn’t the time for sleep. Even if he was exhausted. Even if he was almost out of magic, he couldn’t let his tired bones rest._

_He shakes his head awake flinging the comforting images from his mind. Why is he so damn sleepy? He’s been worn down, but he shouldn’t feel this unfocused during a battle! So why?_

_…A spell? A lullaby?_

_He forces his heavy eyes open, alert, as he peers around the thick trees. Keeping a tight, ready grip on the crimson bone club in his hand. He’s tense._

_“One hit point!” His enemy cackles –and the laugh seems to come from everywhere at once. Sans’ eyes dart around through the thick, dark lining of pines, but he can’t find the voice’s owner. His enemy keeps taunting from the shadows, like he’s so sure his voice won’t give him away. Or he doesn’t care if it does. “I mean!” He chokes between laughs, “With the way the Lieutenant always coddles you; I knew you’d be_ easy, _but this is almost unfair!”_

_There’s a flash to his left and Sans dives away, dodging as the spell goes sizzling past. It fizzles into a tree. There’s a brief lag of silence, just long enough for a careless monster to let their guard down, then the tree explodes in the most ferocious manner. Bark flies away from the blow like shrapnel, splintering into all the surrounding pines._

_Sans presses himself deeply into the snow throughout the boom of the deafening blast, laying as flat as he can against the ground, while the wooden shrapnel impales everything in the surrounding area. He’s luckily left unharmed. Again._

_But it was only that._

_Luck._

_It wouldn’t last forever._

_He had to find this guy. He couldn’t just walk away from this. If he let him go, his secret would be out! Other monsters knew he was weak, but they didn’t know_ how _fragile he really was. If anyone figured out he was free exp sitting in plain sight; dodging explosions like this would become a constant occurrence for however long his sorry life had left._

_If his secret got out it’d just be a matter of time._

_He was panting as he pushed himself out of the freezing snow. Flurries drifting down from the furred rim of his coat as he staggered into balance through the deep, white coating on the forest’s floor._

_“You can’t dodge forever.” The voice taunts, practically reading his mind. “Why not just let me put you out of your misery?”_

_No, he couldn’t run. He_ couldn’t _dodge forever. This monster had to die. Here._ Now.

_“You can’t dodge forever.” The taunt seemed to echo._

_“I was thinkin’ that myself,” Sans mutters under his breath. He dipped deep into his reserves, calling a Blaster. The ominous skull creeps into existence at his side._

_“How ‘bout you?” He snarls into the treeline, loud and scathing. “How are you at dodging, huh?” Sans pat’s the blaster’s snout. A dangerous light growing beneath the mandible. “I believe it’s my turn,” He rumbles low, fangs grinning wide._

_“Oh, you can attack?” It asks in haughty amusement._

_The Blaster unleashes a beam of energy._

_It’s brief, but Sans spins it to the side as it does so, aiming for the direction he heard the voice. In seconds the trees are gone in a blinding light. The forest in the immediate area before him has been levelled to ash. Only the crackle of burnt wood can be heard as the trees that hadn’t been fully incinerated topple into the snow._

_“’Yer not the only one who can blow up trees.”_

_The stocky skeleton pats the snout again and the Blaster disappears. It takes too much magic to keep it here. Even though he’d be safer with it at his side, he can’t afford to drain his full reserve. That would set him up for failure, but his enemies didn’t need to know that it had limitations. He can be weak as long as he didn’t show it. He had to appear strong or his enemies would eat him alive._

_The pines crackle and splinter under the damage._

_It seems unlikely anything survived, but Sans knows better than to lower his guard without explicit proof of death. He’s on edge. Eyes darting around for his prowler. There’s movement in the sky above the scar of wreckage the blast had left. He whirls his attention that way. There’s a floating figure in a pointed hat tumbling backwards through the air away from the danger. He stops suddenly, catching himself in mid-air. Then, the figure took the time to fix his disheveled hat. He stares condescendingly down at Sans._

_“You stupid, walkers,” the magician taunts from the safety of the air, but the amusement is gone from his voice. It’s all berating fear. “Even if you find me, how are you supposed to catch me way up-“_

_He cuts off, blinking now that Sans is gone._

_Because Sans is now behind him._

_With a vicious crack he slams his crimson bone club into the back of its head with the added force of gravity._

_And the giant clam drops with an audible thud to the wet cavern floor. His shell shattered in the place where the bone had busted in the back of his head. Sans stands over his victim, eye blazing. He yanks his bone club free. Shaking the fresh dust off the weapon with a quick jerk to the side. The rest of the body below him dissolved into dust on the floor, leaving only the sunglasses the clam was wearing behind._

_The experience finally pushes him to the next level._

_Sans has started hunting. He’d thought about it. Read into every little action. Replayed every word. He knows Boss wanted him to be stronger. And he wants Boss to be happy._

_So, he’d been hunting EXP. Anything to please Boss. He could be dangerous -with the proper element of surprise. He didn’t have health, or stats, or strength, but if he was smart about it he could take his opponents down. Because without the health, or stats, or strength, he was underestimated. People made sloppy mistakes._

_Yet two levels in and he hadn’t made any progress. Level seven and he was still sitting on one measly hit point. Each level required an exponentially higher amount of experience to get to the next. An exponentially larger amount of deaths to his name. The demand was so high. How many lives would it take to make Sans useful? It was never-ending. He knew it wasn’t going up. It had always been_ one point. _Why did he bother?_

_This was all pointless._

_He frowns._

_“How did you-?!” The other clam shrieks as their partner falls. She takes a step back, the fight forgotten. The echo flowers repeat the incredulous phrase._

_“How?”_

_“How -?!”_

_“How did you-?!”_

_There’s fear there. She’s seen his stats, but she’s still afraid because now she’s seen what he can do. They were so eager to fight back before, so sure they could win, but now she’s scared of him. She was low on health, but, even now, she had more health than Sans ever did. And_ she _was_ afraid of him.

  _He lifts his tired eyes to regard her._

_“Stay back!” The clam girl yells, dashing into the thick, tall grass between the rivers._

_It’s a dumb move. A sloppy move. She’d seen what he can do, so why would she_ run? _He can hear the grass rustling. He can see the movement. Plus, he doesn’t even have to run after her. He teleports to the end of the grass where she’ll emerge. She bursts from the brush, panicked, looking over her shoulder. Or at least as far back as she can with the shell blocking most of her peripheral._

_Sans slams his bone into her gut, knocking her to the cavern floor. He summons several red bones that float behind him at his beck and call._

_“No, wai-!”_

_He’s sick of the begging. So much begging. He sends them all to crush her. Stabbing into her fish-like torso. Pinning her to the damp cavern floor. She struggles. Even when her health starts plummeting at the motion, she doesn’t stop struggling in panic._

_It’s the worst thing she can do._

_She, too, falls into dust. A scream dying and fading in her throat._

_Sans sighs. He lets the bone club slip in his slack grip. He really hated this. Questioning why he was even trying when he knew he wouldn’t get any results. He stands over the dust pile for a few seconds letting his magic cool down. The blaze from his eye dies to a lonely wisp, but the flowers still paint the scene in red._

_He’s about to leave when he hears a rustling. It’s the grass, but it stops abruptly. Not like someone approaching, plowing along their way. Like someone who’d been hiding. Someone who’d moved accidentally and then suddenly stopped._

_Fuck. He wasn’t alone._

_He reaffirms his grip on the club. He couldn’t let them leave. They’d seen his stats. They’d seen his fighting style. If he let them go, he’d be dead. If they talked, he wouldn’t have the element of surprise anymore. His secret would be out. Hell, he’d be dead by morning. He takes his stance, low, alert, listening. It’s several minutes of silence before he hears it again._

_It’s off to his left._

_He teleports behind the eavesdropper spying on him from the grass. They don’t see him. “Hey, bud,” He says low, dangerous. The kind of tone Boss would often use. “Not gonna join the fun?”_

_They jump, spinning around. The damning, red glow of the echo flowers illuminating the spy._

_It’s just a kid._

_Striped shirt. Big eyes. Cute._

_Sans falters for a second._

_He’d been hunting, but he’d been hunting prey who’d deserved it. Murderers, cheats, crooks. Nearly everyone in the Underground had a rep. His prey was supposed to be limitless. Everyone was fair game._

_It was just a kid._

_But, no. There wasn’t exceptions. He couldn’t let_ anyone _who saw him fight live. Child or not; all the same reasons applied. If he wanted to live; they had to die._

_“Ah!” The kid squeaks, terrified of him._

_Good. He should be._

_Run._

_He ran. Clambering across the pebbles at a tragically slow pace._

_Sans purposefully watches him go. He doesn’t follow. He doesn’t chase. He can’t justify this._

_He managed to get a few feet away. Then, the kid falls flat on his face. The child struggles with difficulty, trying to get onto his feet again on the slick, cavern floor._

_The kid didn’t even have arms._

_Really, he’d be doing him a favor if he put him out of his misery right now. The world wouldn’t be doing him any favors in the future. Sans knew all about handicaps; they didn’t exist. He swallows the guilt down in his throat before it can even rise. Guilt didn’t have a place here; this was survival. If he wanted to live; they had to die. He grits his fangs. Grabs the bone._

_He takes a step towards his prey._

_“You don’t have to do it_ like this,” _The squeak protested. “There’s other options!”_

_“That doesn’t save anyone,” they snapped. “I can’t do it! …I can’t…,” The soft voice repeats almost too quietly to hear._

_There’s only the darkness in front of his vision. It settles into the air. There’s a lag in the conversation before the squeak speaks up again._

_“Do what?” It asks empathetically._

_“I can’t keep doing this. I can’t watch him die again,” The voice clarified apathetically. He felt something wet drip onto his face._

No. It was something _very_ wet pressing into his face. It dabs along his forehead. The dampness is uncomfortable, but the coolness of the object feels good where it presses against his skull. Then, it disappears, leaving him uncomfortable again. He struggles to get his eyes open.

A familiar ceiling fuzzes into view. He tries to move, but he’s held down.

No, not held.

He fights his heavy head high enough to peer down.

He’s wrapped too tightly in a blanket and he’s not strong enough to move. In fact, he feels awful. He groans silently at the persistent throbbing in his head, dropping his head back to the pillow. He’s sore everywhere. Every bone has its own special ache, but the mattress is soft, much more comfortable than he remembers his mattress being. There’s the sound of splashing water just out of his view. Carefully, he turns his head to the side. Craning his neck to see the source.

There’s a tall skeleton seated next to him on the floor, turned the other way, wringing a cloth in a bucket of water.

“B-Boss?”

At his voice, the tall figure spun around. “Red!” The skeleton lunged at him, causing him to flinch. He squeezed his eyes shut, fearing danger. He didn’t need to, though. They held his face between their hands so gently. A forehead pressed firmly against his. Several seconds pass, but there wasn’t any pain. At least none caused by the skeleton. Tentatively, he opened his eyes to the half-lidded gaze drinking him in.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry!”

Something about the way the thumb ran along his cheekbones…

It was so familiar. He knew this monster. He knew these orange eyes.

“P-Pap…?” He croaked out.

The figure pulled away a bit, so their foreheads were no longer touching.

“hey, there,” Pap smiled in response, yet he was tense. His heavily lidded eyes looked worried sick, thick bags beneath the sockets, as always. Yet somehow these bags felt worse than usual. Still… his smile was warm, curling up gently at the corners.

 It was a calming thing.

He felt a bit better just looking at it.

Red blinked, turning his head more to get a better look at him. “hey, Red. hey, there, buddy,” he repeated twice more, relief washing over the tone. He sounded unreasonably excited at the movement.

All he did was turn his head.

Pap climbed onto the bed with him, lying next to the injured skeleton on the mattresses. Right on the edge. If he wasn’t so thin, he would have fallen off. Red was in the center of the bed, stealing most of the room. But now that they were at the same level, Red didn’t have to strain his neck to try and look at him. He realized Pap’s hands were a bit shaky as the long fingers cupped his face once more. A wandering thumb exploring the bone. He was being awfully touchy –more so than usual, but Red didn’t push him away because there was a worried slant to Pap’s brow.

But Red was still confused. He furrowed his brow, looking down to the finger caressing his cheek. His searing mind couldn’t catch up. Why was Pap so worried? He felt like he knew this, too.

The thumb stroked along his cheekbone again. It was relaxing, distracting him from his thoughts. He blinked his crimson eyes back up to look at Papyrus. The tall skeleton softened a bit when he did, his tired eyes still drinking in Red’s face. “how are you feeling?”

 

_“How are you feeling?” The human asked._

_“B-bone-tired,” he responded without missing a beat, but it was true. He couldn’t even lift his head._

_They chuckled softly and the swaying picked up again as they began walking._

He blinked back at Papyrus. No, that wasn’t it. That wasn’t what he was trying to remember. His mind was scattered.  Trying to focus on one thing just made it ache. It sent a sharp pang through his skull.

Red winced, struggling to free his hand from the blanket. He shook the loosened sheet free enough to grab his head in his hand, but it felt like a cotton ball smacking his face. Concerned, he drew back to look at his hand.

It’s wrapped in a ball of bloodied bandages. His fingers are sticking out, but each is bound excessively in tape.

_His hand had been treated. It may have been a bit late. Actually, it was long overdue. Regardless, he felt a bit …happy?_

Red furrowed his brow twice as hard. “What…?” He rasps. Trying to make sense of the strange wrappings.

Papyrus catches his hand in his own. Absently rubbing the soreness out of the bandaged fingers. “i –uh- i’m not really used to people bleeding,” He said sheepishly, “i may have put too many on…?”

“Heh!” Red laughs. It looks ridiculous. “J-just a few.” So, Pap had bandaged him. His smile quirks up to the side. That makes a lot of sense. Of course it was Pap!

Pap smiles back, still idly tracing his fingers. However, there’s still a worried slant to his brow that makes Red nervous.

His lopsided smile falls slowly as he tries to remember why Pap had to bandage him.

_The thudding sound of massive paws on tile._

“That’s right,” he mumbles, throat sore. Piecing it together slowly. His mind catching up. “T-there was an amalgamate.”

This time its Pap’s turn to look at him curiously.

“And you…”

His soul sinks. It’s cold.

_“P-Pap! Let me up!”_

“’Ya left me to die,” He states wretchedly, red eyes locking accusingly onto Papyrus’.

Ah, that’s the worried slant.

It’s guilt.

He yanks his hand out of Papyrus’. The movement sent searing pain down his arm, but he ignored it. There’s a different pain festering in him that hurts so much more.

Papyrus looks stricken. Panic flying across his face. “no! i-“ His excuses withered away quickly. His eyes fell miserably to the sheets. “i didn’t think it was going to hurt you.”

Bullshit.

Red’s mind had caught up, but it wasn’t slowing down.

“What gave ‘ya that idea,” He roared, anger now flaring. Struggling to sit up. Mind now racing. “Was it the oh-so-friendly way it growled? Or did ‘ya think it was just trying to hug ‘ya with its mouth?”

“no,” Pap protested irritated, yet still attempting to assist Red. Either to help him sit up or push him back down, he didn’t know. “it was- “ He had to think. He looked so torn.

“it was just trying to sniff me?”

Excuses.

“it was just a monster. it wasn’t trying to hurt anyone.”

So then, Papyrus thought he was capable of attacking some _harmless monster_?

_Good. He should be._

_Run._

His soul ached.

He felt that pain intensely.

Because he couldn’t even say he wasn’t.

Red held his bandaged hands up between them, flinching, turning his head to the side, refusing Papyrus’ ‘help.’ Red had only tried to keep him safe and now Pap was looking at him like he was some violent butcher. In disapproval. “Right,” He rasps sarcastically, setting aside the fact that ‘the dog’ wasn’t even a monster for now, “because monsters n e v e r hurt each other.”

Pap’s logic wasn’t even sound.

Papyrus tentatively backs off, but he doesn’t move away.

Red doesn’t want to be near him right now. His mind’s reeling with a splay of emotions. None of them good. A dozen shades of anger. At Papyrus. At himself. At _everything._ Because why the fuck leave a smiley face on the elevator, anyway?! Why was he so damn _weak_ a level one could hold him down in the first place?  Why was he such a fucking disgrace that couldn’t even protect someone properly?

He’s mad, but he doesn’t want to be the brute Papyrus clearly thinks he is. After all, _Papyrus_ was some harmless monster. He doesn’t want to hurt him like last time.

Using the back wall as leverage, he struggles his way onto his feet, so he’s standing on the mattress. It’s difficult. He realizes it’s not just his hands. There’s a myriad of bandages wrapped around the rest of him, too. His injured legs are shaking with the effort to keep him up. Clattering beneath him. Mattresses aren’t the most solid, stable thing to stand on.

Papyrus jumps off the bed, arms out like he’s ready to catch him when he inevitably falls. He tries to reason with him, “Red, lay back down. you shouldn’t be standing.”

Red can’t stifle the growing fury in his soul. He’s been betrayed. His red hot eyes snap up to meet Papyrus’. “Why don’t’cha just hold me down again?” He bites out venomously.

Papyrus stiffens at the comment.

Pap’s orange eyes searched his, tormented and confused. He looked like he’d been wounded down to his very soul.

Red had hurt him.

This is why he shouldn’t be here.

He’s got to leave. He doesn’t want to be here. “Why _am_ I even here?” He mutters. “You don’t need my help.”

“Red, i’m sorry,” His voice was pained. Genuinely apologetic. Pap held his hands out again to Red, offering to help the shaky skeleton down. Inching closer. “please. just-“

Red pushed himself off the wall, stepping through a shortcut, escaping Papyrus’ reach. Not ready to let his anger go. He didn’t care where the shortcut took him. Hotland. Waterfall. Wherever. Just as far away as he could go.

_Why did he bother? Every time he teleported away, Boss would always inevitably find him; no matter where he went._

He exited the shortcut slightly above the lower half of the living room staircase. Falling the rest of the way to the steps. In his failure, his injured legs smashed painfully into the first wooden step. Then, he tumbled, noisily, down the rest of the stairs. Banging the wall, each step, and the railing on the way down. He landed half upside-down at the bottom of the steps, his bandaged legs still on the incline of the staircase.

It hurt in no small amount.

“Fuck,” He whines. “Shit,” He presses his cotton ball hands into his sockets.

 He hadn’t gotten as far as he wanted to.

“Red!” Pap yelled, flinging open the door to his bedroom. His head appeared over the railing on the second floor, peering down at the damage. He winced a little at the sorry display. “are you okay?”

Red growled angrily up at him, suddenly finding the spark of strength to wrestle himself back onto his feet. Stumbling backwards unsteadily. “Don’t follow me!”

Papyrus, of course, immediately started coming down the steps.

Red ran as fast as he could manage towards the front door. Throwing open the wooden door to the chilling cold outside. Flurries danced into the doorway.

“damn it, Red!” Pap cursed as the little skeleton hobbled away from him out the door. “Red!”

Red plodded away from the cottage through the deep snow, ignoring the other’s calls behind him. Ignoring the pounding in his head. Ignoring the screaming protest of every bone in his body. He was only here to help Papyrus. If Papyrus thought he was harmful –if he was going to _hurt_ Papyrus- he shouldn’t stay. He struggled his barefoot out of the dense snow into his next step. It was difficult to move. He was running on anger alone.

An endless fuel of self-hatred.

An orange hoodie fazed in front of him suddenly.

_“Did you try to_ run from me _?”_

Red stumbled backwards, but large hands caught his shoulders before he fell into the snow. The bone gripping steadily into his the sleeves of his borrowed T-shirt, preventing him from escaping. Red tensed instinctually. Soul thudding. Breath picking up.

Pap crouched down in front of him so they were at eye level. He looked confused and lost. The hands gripped tighter into his arms.

“Red… where are you going?” It wasn’t Papyrus’ normal calm. It sounded more like he was fighting to keep his voice calm. His fiery pupils desperately boring into Red’s eyes.

Red fought up the courage to meet them, brow knitted.

 “Home.”

Was that were he was going? Did he even have one anymore?

“I-If I can get there,” He added. That was all Red offered to say. Telling him about parallel universes would be useless. He didn’t need Red’s life story. Red didn’t know if he could get back. If he succeeded he’d be gone forever. If he failed, he’d probably be dust. It didn’t matter, they wouldn’t know each other for long. They shouldn’t have met in the first place.

He belonged back with the nightmares.

“Red, it’s dangerous,” He said in a reasonable tone, dipping his head to get a better view of Red’s face as the smaller skeleton shrunk away from him. His hands loosened around the little frame’s trapped shoulders. “you could get hurt.”

“I don’t dust,” He snapped in protest, turning his head to get away from those innocent, sympathetic eyes, but Pap just leaned to keep himself in his vision. He searched Red’s face.

Even though he could probably move out of Pap’s light grip; he didn’t.

 

_The snow drifted down. Little arms were wrapped snuggly around his torso. They would hardly be able to stop him, but he didn’t move anyway._

_Maybe they were more effective than he was giving them credit for._

He was held still for a few heartbeats. Long enough for some of the anger that’s kept him going to seep away from him. Replacing that rage with the tired ache in his bones. Now he’s just left with those orange eyes boring questioningly into his own. He tried to avoid them.

“you really don’t dust, do you?” Pap whispered quietly.

“Wish I did,” Red grumbled back rhetorically, a harsh bite of truth to the tone.

“don’t!” The hands dug down into his shoulders suddenly. The sudden rise in volume startled him.

Red’s crimson eyes snapped back to Papyrus’, huge with fear.

The hands on his arms trembled, but loosened a bit around his sleeves. The scolding reduced to a whisper. “don’t say that,” Pap sighed. Covering his eyes with a hand until he’d composed himself. When he spoke again, it was gently. “look, Red. if you really want to go home, i won’t stop you; but could you wait until your injuries have at least healed first?”

Red frowned at him, searching his orange eyes for lies. For deceit. But there’s only genuine concern there. He’d screamed and yelled and stormed out on him, but Pap was only worried about him. The soft way he was speaking to him made him feel even worse.

“please?” He asks with a timid shrug, “just come back to the cottage. rest up, get better, eat a meal, then hit the road? i won’t keep you,” he swallowed, “you just look like you can barely stand right now.”

Red _felt_ like he could barely stand right now.

…And the offer sounded nice. Why did Pap have to always be so fucking nice to him? It’s not like he deserved it. He didn’t deserve any of it, but he _wanted_ it. He wanted _this._ Red frowned, embarrassed he’d tried to storm away from him. Embarrassed for a hundred other reasons. In the first place, why was he getting mad at Pap, a level one monster who’s never hurt anything, for not wanting to harm something?

It was a _good thing_ he didn’t. It was a _good thing_ he wasn’t violent. Red didn’t want Pap to be anything like him.

He wanted him the way he was. Stupid, optimistic beliefs and all.

 Not meeting Papyrus’ eyes, slowly, he shook his head in agreement. A flush to his cheeks. His mind cooling down. He hugged his arms around himself, wrapping his bare arms around his torso as much for warmth as it was for his growing humiliation. Eyes still cast to the side, he shook his head more vigorously.

 “ok,” Pap smiled with a sigh of relief, hands falling from his shoulders. The tall figure stood back up to his full height. “let’s get you back inside. you’re probably freezing without your coat and shoes.”

He was. “Chilled t-to the _bone,”_ He corrected, smiling weakly up at Pap.

The tall skeleton allowed a laugh, returning the grin.

Without the boundless energy of anger fueling him, he felt a lot more drained now. He felt a lot more of everything now. Falling down the stairs hadn’t helped the soreness in his bones any. He could feel the creaks and the protests already. Red wobbled on his first step back towards the cottage, threatening to plummet into the snow. Pap caught him by his arm.

Red leaned heavily into the assistance.

“need help?” He asked gently, but the voice sounded so far away.

He was out of energy. His mind was fuzzy. His bones complained. His legs were freezing.

 

 

_Boss is tugging him through the snow, radiating bloodthirst in waves. Daring anyone to come close. He plows down the street at a pace too quick for Sans to keep up with on his short legs. He’s flushed and sweaty, but not because he can’t keep up. He stumbles after the taller skeleton clumsily, before he is all but dragged up the steps into their cabin. Boss slams the door shut noisily behind them, nearly cracking the door, but he doesn’t let go of Sans’ hand. The glove around his wrist is trembling in a quiet rage._

_He knows Boss’ temper has been always been quick. He also knows he should say something. The tall black figure is standing so deathly still in front of him. His hand is still trapped._

_“B-Boss, it was just a little f-fun. I thought– I mean- I didn’t mean nothin’-”_

_“How dare you lie to me,” Sans could barely hear the words in his low, dangerous whisper._

_He wasn’t._

_He blinks, feeling the hand tighten around his wrist. “What?” The word falls out of his mouth._

_“’What?’” Boss echoes. He reels on Sans suddenly, slamming him to the back of the door with a fist around his neck. He rips the zipper down Sans’ coat, tugging the garment half off his arm in a violent motion. Sans involuntarily winces against the brutality there. Without his thick winter coat to hide behind, the burning, ruby glow from his heat can be seen clearly beneath his shirt._

_“That’s ‘what’!” Boss bellows. “Did you think no one would notice? Did you think you were just having a little fun?”_

_Heats made monsters living targets. A monster in heat was prime prey for all sorts of reasons. Their magic didn’t work right, they were distracted, they could easily be hunted, and, of course, could easily be subdued. Sans, with stats as low as his, was a laughably easy target._

_He usually stayed in, hidden, through the duration of his heats. Yet the times he did go out, he seldomly was bothered. Sans had always been an open book in that regard. Anyone with a few gold to spare never had to wait for a heat to attack him. They just paid him. He hadn’t thought twice about it, but this time it was different. Boss’ selective and expensive taste in clients had apparently made Sans the bait that was just out of reach. And now, because he’d carelessly gone out, Boss’ uniform was in tatters. Several new scars in the making embellished into his bones. Both of them were spent and exhausted._

_He yanks Sans forward by his throat then slams him back to the door again. “NO! You didn’t think, you stupid fuck!” Boss answers for him, panting out all the air Sans wished he had. The normally composed skeleton’s face twisted in a disgusted and appalled manner._

_Slowly it morphs into the cool unreadable expression that usually adorns Boss’ skull. “We’re getting rid of it,” He states._

_“What?” Sans chokes past the fist to his throat. This time it’s his turn to host a disgusted and appalled face._

_Boss doesn’t wait for his brother’s reeling mind to catch up. His free hand is already fumbling with the little skeleton’s pants. It’s about when his shorts are a quarter off his pelvis that his mind jumpstarts what’s happening._

_“N-n-no!” Sans protests, the hand around his throat has slipped enough in distraction that he can speak. He tries to scuttle away, but the hand hasn’t slipped quite enough that he can freely move. It locks back down. Trapping him in place, stealing all his protests. He struggles and squirms in the hold, eyes squeezed shut, but he’s no match for Boss._

_His shorts fall around his ankles._

_“Ugh –Bo-!” He tries to choke out. Hands failing to pry off the talon around his throat._

_“Shut up, brother!” Boss’ gloved hand presses firmly into the unformed magic around his pelvis. A harsh pressure at the front of his pubis._

_Which whips Sans up into a new frenzy. His eyes snap open. He struggles twice as hard to get out of the hold. But he can’t move. There’s nowhere to back up to. He retreats his hips as far back against the door he can get, but it’s not nearly out of Boss’ reach._

_Fingers pump into his burning magic, then draw away. An arduous pace. Demanding something form for them to touch._

_Sans doesn’t want this. He tries pathetically to kick Boss away, but his legs are too short. He almost trips over the pants around his ankles. Boss snickers low at his attempt. The new angle only giving him better access. The fingers dive deeper, drawing out the magic._

_“Uhn!”_

_His knees shake. He can’t keep his legs under him. The constant invasion at his pelvis robbing his strength. He’s fighting with all his might to_ not _let something form as the fingers coax his crotch obsessively. He doesn’t want this. Not with Boss. He’s drained. He’s tired._

_“That’s it, brother,” Boss eases his grip a bit. Helps him slide down the door into a seat at its base. The fingers always in him. A constant pressure stroking at his groin. Commanding submission. Boss crowds him in close once he settles at the bottom. One hand is still around his neck, but only lightly. It’s not choking him anymore, but he wished it was. Now he was fighting to stifle his own voice as well as attempting to will his burning, frantic magic to calm._

_Pants escape his trembling fangs._

_The hand pumps up and away from his crotch. Holding his magic. He flinches. It’s so effective. They almost have him._

_He can’t do this. He can’t fight him off. He’s not strong enough._

_He’s weak._

_His thick, ruby cock forms, fully erect, in Boss’ hand. Twitching and eager._

_“Good boy,” Boss purrs in his ear. A firm grip curling gracefully around his shame._

_Sans doesn’t look at him. He purposefully keeps his eyes up and away, blinking away the wetness from his vision. He hates himself. He hates this._

_The first pump rocks him. A quick pull that leaves his whole form shivering. The second is short to follow. He feels it just as intensely as the first. He couldn’t force his mind to wander somewhere else. Boss had his full attention. The hand diligently working his shaft had his full attention, whether he wanted it to or not. The hand was squeezing him. Each long finger pressing around his plump cock in an asynchronous order. Fondling him. Then it yanked up firmly. Magic dribbled out of the quivering red tip. His own magic was betraying him._

_He sunk his head disgracefully into Boss’ shoulder. He was so weak. “Hn-!” He whimpers out wretchedly._

_“That’s it.” Boss doesn’t stop. He forces another, louder, whine out of Sans with another well-timed pump. “Good boy.”_

_That gloved hand was driving him mad. Each quick jerk had him panting. Delirious. His heat hummed with desire as the hand jerked him off. Pulled him. Pleasured him. He opens half-lidded sockets to look up at the skeleton looming over him. Boss’ expression is unreadable, but he looks focused. Intently focused. On him._

_He shivers as the hand twists around his shaft suddenly. The other, pinning his hands above his head. He’s not even concerned that he’s naked in front of Boss anymore. He arches his back off the bed into the cool air as the hand keeps going. Keeps stroking his red girth. Sans is stealing short breaths between his clenched fangs. Chest heaving with the effort._

_Suddenly, Boss squeezes him. Hard. Clamping down around the twitching cock. Milking as much precum as he can out of the shaft._

_“Ahh!-“_

_He rubs the wetness back down over his dick. Lubing him. There’s quite a bit. The squelching wet sounds are so much louder now as the hand picks back up the pace. Sans can’t contain his arousal. “Hnnn~!” He moans, squirming his hips._

_“What a slut.” It’s not in the reprimanding way Boss used to insult him after a night job, there’s a smirk to this voice. Boss is enjoying this. Boss is enjoying him. This was why…_

_He hated this. He hated his heats. The shame. Doing this with Boss. Ruining his baby brother-_

_But he loved them. He fucking loved it. Entertaining Boss. Amusing him. Maybe getting a smile. And the praise! The fucking praise!_

_“Hnn! Hah!” He just let the heat take him, bucking his hips into the grip. Wet smacks filling the room. Letting that slick friction tease him. He didn’t need useless thoughts. The haze in his head could blot those out. He just needed Boss. He needed the approval in that voice. He craved it._

_He rutted into the hand desperately. Plying for a compliment. He was so close. He was going to cum. He was going to burst! It was too early. It was too soon, but he was going to cum!_

_“B-Boss!” He cries desperately._

_“Weakling,” he heard Boss curse under his breath behind him. Shaking the excess magic off his gloved hand. Sans’ magic –like him- was fragile._

_Sans choked on several shaky breaths, gasping on his side. Unable to place the swirl of immense pleasure and incredible pain he was feeling. Conflicting with each other. Warring in his smoldering soul. This was one hell of a heat. The light wasn’t dimming in the slightest._

_Sans just knew he hurt. Throbbed._

_He whimpered._

_Boss_ tsk _ed, grabbing Sans roughly by the vertebrae on the back of his neck. “Get up,” He instructed, wrestling Sans onto his knees. Steering him roughly by the hold on his neck. He shoved Sans’ head to the floor once he was kneeling, so his pelvis was up. Face smashed against the floor. Boss was opting to finish this other ways than wait to coax his magic into a dick again._

_“Spread them.”_

_And Sans obliged. His legs slipped apart._

_He obeyed automatically. Instinctually._

_He could hear a zipper. Two long hands grabbed his pelvis, steadying his hips. It wasn’t until he felt something hot and big hoovering at his backside that the raging fog in his mind had subsided enough to start having second thoughts._

_Boss always helped him with his heats, but he’d never fucked him. Not once. Sans didn’t think he wanted him to._

_No, Sans didn’t want him to!_

_As it was, with just the hand jobs, they still kept enough of a distance between them. Some thin line of morality. Enough that he could lie to himself. He could say that this was still his brother. They were just getting him through the heat. Despite_ everything; _it was his brother. This would rob him of that thin shield he had around his sanity. This was where the joke he’d started as “Boss” would become someone else entirely. Someone completely separate from his cherished little brother. They were already different enough as it was!_

_He struggles against the bonds holding his hands behind his back. Trying to crawl forward away from him. “Boss! W-w-wait!”_

_“Don’t test me,” Boss growls, dragging him backwards by his hips._

_“No, Boss! Wait.” He chokes out, panicked, trying to turn back to look at him. He can feel the warmth of his brother’s erection line back up. There’s clear fear in his voice. It’s shaky and pitiful even to his own ears. “Stop, p-please.”_

_A gloved hand presses his face back into the ground, holding him down. “If we stop,” he spits the idea out like it tastes foul, “this won’t go away.” He raps against Sans’ ribcage right above the blazing heat of his soul. It bathes the dark room in its intense ruby glow. He trembles at the touch out of fear alone. Soul pounding, chest heaving, as he tries to figure out how to stop this. Before he can think, the hand curls suddenly around his rib, yanking him, with a quick jerk, back into Boss’ hips._

_His erection slips inside._

_“Ughn!” A sob hitches in his throat as Boss thrusts into him. “Boss-! Bo-Boss…sss. Nn!” Tears spill out of his sockets. The large, hot droplets trickling down his face into the carpet._

_Boss’ hands slip away from his face and chest. Aware that now he’s truly trapped, he doesn’t have to hold him down any more. He wasn’t going anywhere with Boss inside him. The gloves rub down his spine back to his hips, where the large hands cradle his pelvis. Boss forces his way into him again. Pulling Sans back to meet him._

_Over._

_And over._

_…And over._

_Why wasn’t this over?_

_It’s hot. It’s hurting._

_It’s tight. He clenches his anus around the long invading shaft. Shuddering walls trapping it, but Boss has slicked his dick with the magic left of his groin. It slips right back in and out again. An constant unpleasant pressure buried in him. Boss lets a low, pleased growl slip past his teeth as Sans squeezed him. Rolling his hips deeper inside. He speeds up. Sans’ knees skid incrementally across the carpet with each thrust. Grinding into him with a force he’d only expect out of Boss._

_Sans panted heavily, choking on drool and tears between each demanding thrust. A shiver ran down his spine. Out of fear and exertion and… fuck it all. There was pleasure there, too. “Hic! –Nnn!” He doesn’t want this. His hips are dragged back eagerly into the erection. “B-Boss…” he whines. “I don’t-!”_

_His magic is betraying him again. His ass is sucking Boss in readily. His soul is humming in approval. The red, flickering light dancing around the room sensually every time he’s rocked forward. It likes this. He likes this._

_No, he doesn’t!_

_No, he doesn’t!_

_How does he get Boss to stop? It’s getting so hard to think. His mind is so hazy. All he can feel is Boss. He hasn’t slowed down any. He ruts into him. The sound of slopping, squelching suction every time his dick pops free. Then, he slams back in again. Roughly. His arms strain against their bonds. His hips scream with the force, but his magic hungrily takes him back._

_“P-plea…please,” Panting as he’s ground down and forward with Boss’ desire. “Ah! Ahhnn!” He whimpers. He’s delirious. Eyes half-lidded. “Ple-pl-! AH!”_

_He’s crying. He can’t get the words out as he’s slammed into. “Ahn! Pl-Ugh! P-ah!”_

_He’s begging as he sucks in that long, ruby cock. “AH! PAH-PAPYRUS!”_

_He flinches, tensing at the mistake. He hasn’t called him that in years._

_“Ah! F-Shit!” Boss cusses as he’s clamped down on. He shudders inside him. “SANS!” Claws drag his hips back into the pain. Forcing him to drink in his whole release as Boss rides him through the duration of his climax. A few desperate, final thrusts rolling into him. Warmth spills into his insides. It’s wet and hot. It fills him to the brim. Seeping out of the hole._

_It’s awful._

_Sans cried into the carpet. “Papyrus… Papyrus…” He wanted his brother. “Papyrus…”_

He rubbed his head into the sheets.

Red groggily managed to open his eyes. He had buried his head deeply into the covers. His bandaged hand curled around a fistful of the fabric. Except, the sheets were orange. Red jerked his head away from the cloth sharply, but he wasn’t able to move very far away. Two, long arms were holding him still, curled around his back, pressing him into the large hoodie. As he craned his head up, he could see Papyrus’ sleeping face lying on the mattress above him. In his sleep, he’d thrown a leg over Red’s lower body, pinning him in place.

His soul panged with a dull ache.

He’s fine. He’s ok. It’s just Pap.

He took a few deep breaths, calming his wandering mind. Taking some time to ease his soul. Chest heaving against the hoodie he’s pressed so close to. His ribs rubbed against the other’s through the fabric of their shirts. That’s how close they were. He frowned at Papyrus.

This clingy brat!

What was he supposed to do about this? They were so damn close. They shouldn’t be. His eyes darted around frantically trying to decide on a solution.

He’s in no mood for this. His mind’s not ready for this.

Agitatedly, Red struggled to get out of the hold, pressing both his hands into the other’s arms, attempting to shove them up and away. Trying to squeeze his big head through the hole to freedom. To push himself away from the leg lying over him and make his escape. He thought he’d almost managed to succeed when the grip tightened around him, pressing Red’s face into the hoodie once more.

He’d woken Papyrus up.

“no need to be in a hurry,” He drawled lazily. “we can just sleep in all day today.”

Red squeezed his eyes shut, trying futilely for a few more attempts to free himself, but his skull wouldn’t budge. “Lemme go! I don’t need to sleep anymore,” He scolded his captor.

“really?” Came Pap’s snickered response. “you sure? you didn’t seem like you were getting much sleep last night.”

Unimportant.

He knew he meant it harmlessly as a light tease, but, still, his mind wandered to something unpleasant.

“L-let go,” Red said as sternly as he could manage, but his voice quivered a bit.

Fuck.

It hung in the air in the static silence.

Pap gently squeezed him closer into the hoodie so he could bury his head back into the fabric as shamefully as he wanted to. Red hesitated for a few seconds, warring with the half of him that wanted to take that offer. He swallowed the thick sorrow invading his voice back into the pit. “I don’t need comforting,” He said flatly, voice now steady. Masking his face in a grimace.

“…no?” Pap asked innocently.

“Yeah.”

“you sure?”

No. “Yes!”

Pap loosened his grip just enough for Red to push himself at least a forearm’s length away from him. So, Red shoved himself as far away as he could get, glaring up at Papyrus. Pressing his hands against his torso to keep them separated.

The bonehead smiled sheepishly back down at him. “are you suggesting skeletons make very bad pillows?”

Don’t make that innocent face.

Red rolled his eyes, so he wouldn’t fall for it. Letting them linger to the side. Steeling his expression into the one he wanted to show. Then, scowled at him once more, forcing an impatient edge into his voice. “Let. Go.”

Papyrus hesitated, not removing his limbs that had wound their way around the smaller skeleton in their sleep. He looked up and away from Red, trying to avoid his insistent stare. “i’m… sure there’s a joke in there somewhere.” He stalled.

His captor clearly wasn’t planning on letting him go anytime soon.

Red sighed heavily, defeated. His eyes falling to glare into the chest of the orange hoodie in front of him. His bandaged hands were curled in close to his face. Pap’s long arms trapping him. If he was going to be here for a while; he might as well ask. “Why’re ‘ya huggin’ me in my sleep?”

He didn’t get an answer.

It was his least favorite answer. If he was going to cling onto him like this, he wasn’t going to let Pap just ignore him! He snapped his angry, red eyes back up at Papyrus.

The bonehead was blushing. An orange glow dusting his cheekbones. Half-lidded eyes gazing down at him. An apprehensive expression on his face. He was embarrassed?

Red’s attack lost half its edge. He tried anyway. “ _Why_ , Pap?” He demanded, patience thin.

“you, uhh,” Pap clutched Sans a little closer. “you say my name in your sleep sometimes.” He mumbled, glancing shyly to the side.

Oh.

_Oh._ He’d actually been-

Red blushed now. A crimson slighting his cheeks.

So, it was his own fault. Like Red, Pap hadn’t been able to just sit back and let his brother’s look-alike cry his name out in their sleep.

“i thought maybe i should stay nearby? that it would help, you know, in case you needed me?” There’s a pause as Pap avoided the red gaze which had frozen onto his face. He let his inner-monologue go. “…that sounds dumber when i say it out loud! ah, jeez, sorry,” his iron grip unwound reluctantly from Red’s back. “i guess i should let you go.”

His soul _ached._

Red sank his head back into Papyrus chest, blinking away the hot blur trying to steal his vision. “No. I-It’s not dumb. …It’s fine,” He mumbled quietly, voice threatening to betray him again. With a quick motion, he wrapped his arms around Pap’s back, crushing the hoodie in a hug, as he buried his face deeply into the fabric. For a few seconds, he didn’t want to try to be stronger than he really was.

He just wanted to hug Papyrus.

Pap flinched, obviously not expecting Red to hug him back. Let alone with the current death grip around his spine. His low, nervous chuckle resounded right above his head, “nyeh heh. you know, i didn’t think you had that much strength left.” Slowly, he eased back down around the little, bandaged form, returning the gesture.

“i’m glad you do, though. are you feeling better?”

Red nodded silently into Pap’s hoodie, not giving his voice the chance to betray him.

Red felt a hand begin to stroke the back of his cracked skull. He melted into the embrace. His hands balled tightly into little fists around the hoodie’s fabric as he clung on desperately.

It was so warm. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter:  
> Papyrus is a pacifist.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
> 
> Wowzers! There was a shit-ton of nightmares in this chapter. If that got too trippy for anyone and you feel lost, please just drop me a comment and not only will I try and clarify anything you got confused about (with my best effort to not spoil); when I’m editing this, I’ll try and see if there’s anything I can add that might help future readers who would get lost at the same area, too.  
> XOXO  
> Thanks for your patience! I never meant to leave you on a cliffhanger that long! lol  
> As always, thank you for taking the time to read! :)  
> Next chapter will be less trippy. Promise.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a section of a much larger chapter, but it is Valentine’s Day, right? Was? Happy Day-Late Valentine’s Day! :3  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> CHANGE LOG:  
> Chapter 8: Minor updates (Fixed *some* of my pathetic grammar! But probably not all of it... xD)  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> Mandatory Recap:  
> We pranced around in Sans’ nightmares.  
> Everyone had a grand ol’ time!  
> Except for Red, who needed some hugs.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

It had been longer than a few seconds.

Much longer.

It was so warm. So pleasant. He had felt awful when he’d first woken up. He’d felt awful for so long. Yet, Pap’s arms felt nice. A small reprieve in a storm of haunting thoughts. He felt better just being in this embrace. Being petted so gently felt so good. But he also felt like an idiot clinging onto Pap so desperately. As if the taller skeleton might decide to vanish if he let his grip slip for even a second.

So, just in case, he didn’t let go.

Head buried in his chest, he tightened his arms even more around Papyrus’ torso. A small, telling squeeze.

Pap returned the gesture, pressing him into the soft cloth of his hoodie as he rolled into a more comfortable position on his back. Gently pulling Red along with him. “clingy today?” His hand skimming down the back of Red’s head in one of those soothing strokes. “not that i mind! you’re pretty cute like this.”

Cute?

Red was decidedly _not cute_. Only this bonehead looking through his rosy colored glasses would see him as such. He was short, but stocky. Thick. Scarred. His bones were old and worn. Hell! His teeth had purposely been shaped into large, intimidating fangs!

He huffed a grunt of protest into Pap’s hoodie. It was just hot air; he wasn’t going to let go. Red kept his face buried in the taller’s ribcage. Mostly because he was certain his face matched his nickname by now. He turned his head down to the side, hoping Pap wouldn’t catch a glimpse of it. His round cheek smooshed against the orange fabric. A blush still lighting his face.

“i meant it as a compliment!” Pap interjected reassuringly.

“Don’t call me ‘cute’,” He grumbled.

“why?” He could hear that smirk.

“Because I’m a grown-ass man.” Not that he was acting like one. It was a hard statement to sell with his current behavior.

Papyrus snickered. Apparently unable to resist the urge to pinch Red’s other cheek. It, too, squished between his fingers.

“ _Tch!”_ Red didn’t dislodge his arms, but jerked his head away from the taunt. Which turned his burning face up to look at Papyrus.

He was beaming down at him.

He was teasing him.

Red dropped his chin to the hoodie, scowling, unconvincingly, up at the bonehead. “Ass,” He grumbled between his fangs. Making sure to mouth the word clearly for Papyrus to see.

“Cutie,” Pap countered, grinning. Meeting his hard stare.

Red promptly nudged him in the side. Injured as he was, the retaliation was hardly forceful enough to do anything other than serve as a complaint.

Pap burst into laughter instead.

“Do ‘ya want me to get off?” Red said embarrassingly agitated, finally letting go. He threw his hands under him on the mattress, attempting to push himself away.

“no!” Pap laughed, drawing him back down. Arms securing around him protectively. “you can stay. you shouldn’t move a lot.”

He couldn’t deny his bones were still sore. A dull ache trickled throughout his limbs. And last time he’d run around, he had fainted into the snow, hadn’t he? Plus, he was tired. Really tired. He’d slept so much, but he still felt exhausted. With a sigh, he flopped back into the hoodie. Pap resumed stroking the back of his skull. Sometimes the skeletal hand lingered halfway down his spine. It was a soothing touch which he couldn’t help but relax into as they wasted time together.

“sorry,” Papyrus drawled, trying to apologize, but it didn’t sound honest with the way he was still beaming affectionately down at the form curled on his chest. “don’t be mad. i’m just glad to see you up.”

Red wasn’t mad. Far from it.

He’d felt like he had spent ages reliving memories he never wanted to see. Lost in all the darkest concoctions his mind could come up with. Then, here was Pap’s beaming smile. The guy was a fucking blinding light in an otherwise bleak reality.

 “Yeah,” Red agreed with a low rumble, burying half his face in the fabric once more. A flush crossing his cheeks, “Glad ‘ta see ‘ya, too,” he muttered too incoherently for Pap to hear. Fingers sinking into his hoodie possessively.

“hm?”

“S-Sorry if I worried ‘ya!” He grumbled out louder to cover his tracks. If Pap had heard the first phrase, he’d probably tease him about that, too. Better he didn’t.

“i’m the one who should apologize,” He countered, carefully tugging free one of Red’s bandaged hands and cradling it in his own. Red couldn’t force his crimson eyelights to look anywhere else; Pap was holding his hand. “it’s my fault you got hurt. Red, really, i’m so sorry. if i had known i would’ve-“

“Don’t.” Red interrupted him with a gruff voice. He could feel it. Pap’s hand was trembling. “I know why ‘ya didn’t want to hurt the thing. I’m glad ‘ya didn’t.” And he meant it.

He was glad he didn’t.

But he could have. Papyrus had summoned blasters after that. Blasters weren’t just some weak attack. Provided you didn’t miss, they were usually a one-shot kill. At the very least, something devastating. You couldn’t just pull a punch with a blaster. There was no such thing. Papyrus had tried to _kill it_. Because of _Red_.

Again, it had almost been his fault Papyrus had hurt something. His fault Papyrus lost something important. Something precious that his own Sans had likely died to protect.

He wasn’t worth it.

Red sunk remorsefully into the hoodie, “I-I like that, ‘ya know?” He confessed, “That ‘ya w-weren’t gonna hurt it… Don’t say ‘ya would’a done it differently. Ok?”

It went silent. Papyrus didn’t answer until Red turned his crimson eyes expectantly up at him.

“…ok.” He agreed in a hollow echo, but his grip tightened around Red’s fingers.

It didn’t really hurt, but with how gently Pap had been handling him before, he wasn’t expecting the sudden pressure. Involuntarily, he winced slightly against a sting that spread beneath the bandages.

Papyrus immediately loosened his hold. “my bad! are you ok?”

“Yeah. Fine.” He was. He was perfectly ok, but Pap still looked disturbed. His hand running to soothe the offended area. Red watched, amused, as he fussed over such a minor injury. He liked this about Pap; that he didn’t want to hurt anything.

“these bandages are pretty old by now,” He noted, inspecting the smaller hand in his, “we should change them.”

“Sure, let’s do that.” He eased his way off of Papyrus to let him up. The tall skeleton waited patiently as Red carefully sat himself up on the bed.

“wait right here and don’t move a lot. i’ll be back in a second.” He stepped into a shortcut as he stood. The tall figure disappearing from sight.

Red immediately disobeyed. He stretched his bones out in front of himself, reaching his arms and legs out as far as they would go. Rolling his feet and hands to test the joints. They creaked in protest, but Red was just glad they all seemed to function, albeit a bit stiffly. How long had he been out for?

Judging by Papyrus’ reaction last time he’d woken up; it must have been a while, right? The red stains seeping through the bandages looked long dried into the fabric.

He inspected several of the stained bandages; noting he had quite a few.

His hands had been excessively wrapped. Something he’d known for a while. Yet his arms, in contrast, only had a few band-aids stuck on here and there. Suspiciously, he felt his ribs through his shirt, but he couldn’t feel any bundles of bandages over the sore bones. As he twisted his torso experimentally, its movement didn’t feel restricted either. He figured his thick, leather coat had managed to protect him some because his legs were another story altogether.

Not quite as comical as his hands, but they, too, had been excessively wrapped. From the tips of his toes all the way up his leg had been meticulously wrapped to look like a mummy. No wonder he’d had trouble walking before. It restricted his movement a bit, making them both feel stiff. There were splotches of red seeping through the bandages all up his leg. Some areas stained darker than others. As his eyes followed the crimson pattern, he tensed realizing the wrapping went _higher_ than the length that his shorts came down to. Slowly he lifted his pants, realizing he’d been mummified up to his thighs… no… even _higher_ than that. Alarmed, he frantically patted his hips through his shorts. Sure enough, there were telltale bulges hinting that his pelvis had gotten the same treatment.

His hands were on his butt when Papyrus popped back into the room holding a first aid kit. Red looked up at the towering figure, face the shade of a cherry.

“W-Why… you…w-,” He couldn’t get the words out, choking all over the magic rushing to his head.

“got it!” Pap greeted at the same time, tilting his head curiously at Red’s stifled, broken cries. “you ok? what’s wrong?”

He looked so damn clueless, Red had to take a moment to collect himself.

“Pap,” He growled slow and ominously, “Did ‘ya _strip me_ when ‘ya bandaged me?”

“well,” This time Pap couldn’t look _him_ in the eye, “ _yeah_ , but you were bleeding everywhere. technically-”

Red dropped his burning head into his cotton ball hands. “Damn it, Pap.” From the time Pap had healed his ribs, he never wanted him to see the rest of his bones. The face he’d made back then had been too revolted at the sight of just his ribcage alone. He certainly hadn’t wanted him to see even _lower_.

He didn’t want to think about it. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to strangers seeing him naked. He just hadn’t thought _Pap_ would.

“-it was just for medical reasons!” He defended, suddenly embarrassed. “We don’t have to rewrap _those._ ”

“Nevermind,” Red said exasperated, willing the color to drain from his face. "I-It’s fine. Just… get these bloody spheres off me _,_ ” He reached both his cocooned hands pitifully out towards Papyrus.

He immediately stopped trying to explain himself, replacing the fluster with his normal grin. An apology in his eyes. “alright,” Pap sat on the bed next to Red, placing the first aid kit off to the side on the mattress. He took one of the offered hands in his own and carefully began to unwrap the oversized sphere from his palm. It took an agonizingly long amount of time to unwind it all the way down to the bone, revealing the rough, gnarled texture of his bare hand.

As he recalled back, he had purposefully stabbed them through the amalgamate’s teeth to hold on. His hands had been in complete shambles, but they seemed to be a bit healthier now. Instead of the ruined remains resembling bones that they had once been, now they appeared wholly as damaged hands. Perhaps Pap had healed him with magic some? But then why didn’t he just heal them the whole way?

He eyed them curiously as Pap worked, stripping off the tape around his fingers. Even now, a few cracks still seeped a red liquid between the bone, but nothing alarming. The amount was so small, it was hardly noticeable. Carefully, Papyrus wrapped fresh linen over the wounds. A snug fit, that wasn’t too tight. This time, it was only a light dressing. Thankfully, shaped normally to fit his palm.

Red eagerly pulled his hand away, testing the newfound freedom. He bent and wiggled his fingers, experimentally, testing their new range with a pleased grin.

“better?” Pap asked, rising his eyes from where he was finishing dressing the other hand. He smiled softly as he watched the smaller’s enthusiasm.

“Much,” Red agreed, testing and retesting a fist. He could bend it. It still hurt to move, but not at any level of pain that he couldn’t keep out of his expression. “Thanks,” He said, returning Pap’s smile.

“we’re not done yet,” Pap waved for Red to hand it over. “give me your arm.”

Red obliged, sticking his arm out for the other without so much as a question. Papyrus steadied the arm, beginning to pull off the band-aids on his ulna and radius. Intently inspecting the areas, determining which ones were still leaking enough to require another band-aid or not. As Red watched him focus into his work, that question seemed to float back to his mind.

“Hey, Pap?”

“hm?”

“How come ‘ya didn’t just use yer healin’ magic trick instead of bothering with all these bandages?”

A streak of nervousness passed across his face. “about that…” He trailed off, letting go of Red’s arm. “i’m going to need to see your soul.”

Red looked him up and down twice. “My soul?”

You didn’t just _ask_ for someone’s soul. Certainly not in the calm and unprecedented manner Pap just had.

“yeah.” He didn’t stutter. “i’ve been using magic on it instead of your other injuries.”

“On _my soul?_ ”

“yeah.”

Papyrus didn’t look perturbed at all.

Red fixed him with a hard stare. “On _my_ soul _?_ ”

“ye-“

“My _soul_!” He demanded exasperated.

First hugging.

Then stripping.

Now _this?_

Red found he wasn’t particularly mad about it-how could he be at _Pap_ \- but did he have no limits? Why didn’t he understand even the vaguest concept of boundaries? Sure, that might have snapped him back awake after his ribs had been shattered, but that had also been for an entirely _different_ reason that shouldn’t be used on unconscious people in the first place!

“What _else_ have ‘ya been doing to me in my sleep, Pap?”

The taller skeleton’s face drew back into shocked dismay. Dusting tangerine in color. _Now_ he got it. “no, that wasn’t-“

“Care to share? I mean, is there something I need ‘ta watch out for?” He pestered, not letting up. “Did’ja take some nudes as keepsakes or maybe left some other present I should know about?”

“i wouldn’t-“

Red paraded on, dripping with sarcasm, “Did’ja carve yer initials into my pelvis or somethin’, too? Because that’ll be just _great_ to find later-“

“I HAD TO!”

The reverberation from his voice sent a chill straight down to his marrow. It was pained, awful, desperate, frustrated and lost all at once. It was the first time he’d heard him raise his voice. Red looked stricken.

“…no-not the initials thing,” Pap corrected at the look on his face, dropping his head to his hands. His voice quickly returned to its normal drawl without a hint of what he’d just heard. “Red, i had to treat your soul. it was, well, maybe you should look at it?”

Red didn’t like the sound of that careful warning in his voice. A bit uncertainly, he reached his hand under his shirt beneath his ribcage. He could feel the familiar pulsing magic of his soul. He felt weird taking the sensitive organ out from it’s safe casing in front of Pap, but he figured Papyrus’ hands had already been all over it anyway. Curiosity got the best of him. Slowly, he drew the soul out from his chest, holding it up in front of his face so he could see. Cradling his hands beneath the floating shape.

An overbearing sense of dread washed over him.

His ruby soul had a thick, ominous crack straight down its center, looking as though it might snap in half any second. Two smaller, but still prominent hairline fractures splintered away vertically, furthering the divide. It looked like a soul that had been frozen in time seconds before death.

His breath hitched. Huge, red eyes locked onto the damaged thing, afraid that even just a small tap of exhaled air might be the final straw to make it finally snap apart. By all means, it didn’t _look_ like its owner should still be alive.

He was going to die.

But he didn’t feel the fear he probably should at that thought. He’d wanted this for a long time. He only felt resigned. Or, after all this time, he _should_ have only felt resigned. So, why could he feel that overbearing sense of dread creeping up his spine?

That concern couldn’t be for himself.

Pap sighed miserably, holding his hands out to either side of the floating soul. Gently cupping the area around it, but not getting close enough to touch the fragile thing. A radiant light glowing ready at his fingertips. A soft, orange glow bathed the both of them in a small candlelight in the dim room.

“i’ve been trying to heal it,” he explained, “but i’m not sure if i’ve been any help.”

Red locked anxious eyes with him over the cracked soul.

“may i?”

Red hesitated.

 A monster’s soul was the culmination of everything they were. They didn’t just hand it over. Who knows what another would do with that sort of power over them? No one in his universe would ever trust another with their soul. The only person who might ever touch their soul was probably their own murderer seconds before they got dusted. But that wasn’t the reason behind his hesitation. With a soul like that; he was surely doomed either way.

And he was okay with that. He could cope with that.

But he could see it in his eyes. Papyrus was worried about him. Papyrus wanted him to live. If Pap wanted him alive, who was he to tell him not to try? To not bother? If his soul –if his life- belonged to anyone; they certainly weren’t _his_. He didn’t even want them. They were Papyrus’. They always had been. From the day Papyrus had been born, everything he’d ever done had been for him. From struggling for food to moments like these; where he had to choose to live just a little longer.

He couldn’t say no to Papyrus. Any Papyrus.

Red hesitated, but he awkwardly nodded his consent. Unable to tear his eyes away from those burning orange pupils.

Pap carefully took the soul in his hands, the healing glow in full effect. Immediately, an intense warmth washed over him, spreading throughout his soul. He thought he was ready, but he was hardly prepared for the powerful feeling that hit him. The small skeleton shuddered as Pap’s fingers skimmed across his soul. Across _him._

He wasn’t concerned about the state of his soul anymore. Hell that was the last thing on his mind. He was much more concerned about what he’d just agreed to as another shudder quaked down his spine.

Damn. He had never handed his soul over before. What exactly _had_ he just agreed to?

“it hasn’t changed much, but see these cracks on the side?” Papyrus motioned, tracing a thumb up the fissure. “i think they might be a little smaller now than when i first started. doing this eats up my magic reserves, but i thought if it was having an effect – _any effect_ at all, i should use it here; where it’s really needed instead of elsewhere.”

Oh, it was having an effect alright.

Red was having trouble focusing in on the drawl of his voice. Long, boney fingers were curling around him. Rubbing him. Petting him. Stroking him. He tried to keep himself rigidly still. Tried desperately to keep any embarrassing hint of arousal off his face. Because that’s what this was. _That’s_ what he was feeling; arousal.

He liked this. He liked when Pap touched him.

Even though he wasn’t holding it, as he fought to stay still, his arms had been locked rigidly in front of him as if the soul were still in his possession. It didn’t take long for them to drop limply into his lap. His eyes fell to half-mast, lost in the touches.

“last time, the light had dimmed out like you’d run out of energy, but this time I thought you were actually going to shatter. it’s a good thing you don’t dust.”

Caressing him. Kneading him. Fondling him. And that fucking thumb! Wandering along the edges of his very being. Sometimes dipping into that sensitive magic when it pressed down a smidge too forcefully. His fangs parted. He tried to close them, but they kept falling open. Slack at the jaw to the tempting traces along his soul. Traces along _him._

 “P-Pap,” He breathed too quietly to hear. A plea barely the volume of a whisper. Unfocused. He couldn’t recall why he was calling his name. His mind felt fogged and heavy. The droll of Pap’s voice was drowned out by the sensation of fingers around him. He lolled his head to the side.

This felt better than being hugged. He felt like he could just let go. Let them take him. Already, he felt the strength draining from himself, but he didn’t feel worried about that. He felt safe –and what a feeling that was! Those hands would catch him, surely. He swayed in his seat as yet another shiver crept up his spine. The thumb running along the fissure in his soul.

“-.”

“---.”

“Red,” Pap said, sticking his face right in front of Red’s.

He blinked, alarmed, coming back to the moment. Fighting off a sudden urge to lean in.

Papyrus smirked at the dazed expression on his face. “sorry about the, uh, _side effects_.”

So much for trying to keep it a secret.

He looked amused nonetheless.  “you look like you’re about to fall over. come here.” He scooched back on the bed, readjusting his legs wider. Then, scooped Red up with a long arm around his ribcage and dragged him backwards into his lap.

Red furrowed his brow, mind catching up to this new situation. “ _Hey_ ,” He growled threateningly in warning. His arms weakly tensed automatically to grab the top of the arm that had curled around his chest, but he knew he didn’t have the energy to push it off as he was pulled into Papyrus. He didn’t like being moved at the whim of another like some toy. Yet he didn’t try to fight it either.

He wanted to be near Papyrus, but he didn’t want to be closer. He was having enough trouble with this as it was.

“relax,” Pap instructed in his calming voice. Red felt the tall form lean into his back as long, poofy, orange sleeves wrapped in front of him, holding up the soul for him to see. “hang on a little longer.”

Red felt that cursed color rising back to his face at the sound of the voice so close to his ear. “How can I relax if ‘ya keep grabbin’ me?” He couldn’t turn around far enough to glare into Papyrus’ face.

“i thought you liked being hugged?” The tone was all mock surprise. A smile on his teeth. It was a jab towards his earlier behavior. Pap was having fun at his expense. He regretted handing his soul over so easily.

This felt _too_ nice. Deceptively so.

There was something wrong. This was wrong.

“you can lean back if you’re tired.”

He was tired. Exhausted. Why did he find this so physically draining? That damn thumb rubbed into him as it squeezed just a little too much. He was distracted as his attention immediately snapped down to the hands in front of him, working his soul. He watched defenseless with half-lidded eyes as they roamed over the fragile organ, busily pressing a pleasing warmth into his core. His face darkened several shades at the sight alone. Silent, shortened breaths escaping his fangs.

Why did the magic feel so much hotter this time than last time?

Defeated at that touch, he collapsed back into Papyrus’ chest behind him, panting. Those fingers were burning him. Scalding. He shut his eyes against this searing sensation, squirming in the loose hold leaning down into him. Pap had draped himself around him in a comforting manner; secure, yet, minus the hands, not overly intrusive.

Papyrus, despite the teasing, was respecting his room. Offering himself as more of some sort of soft, secure cage he could faint in rather than someone smothering him. His legs were wide out to the side, leaving Red with plenty of room to sit or adjust. His arms were draped around him, resting at his sides, but loosely. The soul purposefully held in front of him, so he could see exactly what was going on. Despite the invasion underway, Papyrus was leaving space between them.

And all Red wanted was to be _closer._

He shouldn’t want that. He shouldn’t fucking like this. It was wrong. This might be Pap, but he was still Papyrus.

No, rather, he was Papyrus, but this was still _Pap._

Pap was diligently trying to heal his broken soul. But that was all he was trying to do; heal, right? He was not being any more intrusive than he _had_ to be. Even the slender fingers gliding along his soul were soft and light. The times they pressed into him seemed more like accidents than motions with intent.

…Right?

Red couldn’t even think straight anymore. He squirmed, fighting against himself with reason, but all he could feel were those fingers on him!

Tracing every edge he had! This was better than being hugged, but so much worse than being teased. There wasn’t really any line to cross here. Every boundary was already broken. He kept screwing his eyes shut like that might block it out. If anything, it amplified what he was feeling.

Pap pressed two thumbs into his center, swirling them apart simultaneously in opposite directions.

Red heaved in a steadying breath, digging claws into the sheets below them as he doubled over forward, so Pap wouldn’t feel the tremors such a minor touch sent rocking through his bones.

Pap snickered softly at his reaction, leaning down into his back to close the distance between them. Pressing his skull into the back of his head. Red could feel his smile.

Pap was ok with this?

Pap was ok with this. He knew what was going on and Pap was more than just ok with this. He was having fun with it!

His heavily lidded eyes watched as those long, slender fingers rubbed along his pulsing soul. He fought to keep his hands down in his lap. He fought to stay still. He fought to stay sane.

He regretted handing his soul over!

He was going crazy, right? Pap didn’t want this! Not in the way he did.

Red was the only one who wanted _more._ He was getting worked up on his own. He was losing himself on his own. Pap was just trying to help. Pap was just having fun. Red was the one who was taking advantage of this. Using this for some sick, lewd pleasure creeping down his spine. Rising in his soul. He shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near Papyrus right now. He couldn’t do this to him. Not _again_.

Red gasped silently when the fingers squeezed him softly. Back arching off the chest behind him slightly.

That orange face flashed across his mind. That tangerine orange. Followed by that look of disgust on his prey’s face.

Pap might find his reactions funny, but, if Red dared to take this further, that’s exactly where he’d be again.

He was going to ruin him. And, damn, did he want to.

“Pap,” He breathed out in a breathless sigh.

He was going to ruin him.

“ _Pap._ ” He keened out more desperately.

“hm?” Pap hummed, seemingly amused at the whole situation.

“I d-don’t wanna-” Fuck, his voice quivered like it had after that last nightmare. But, he couldn’t. Not with Pap. Not again. So, he pleaded. “Pap. I don’t wanna do this, Pap!”

As if the words were a gunshot, he felt the form draped around him tense. The request firing off a ceasefire.

The fingers froze.

The back pressing into him backed off.

All action ceased immediately.

“sorry.”

Woodenly he lifted one of Red’s fallen hands, gently pressing the damaged soul into it. Red leaned forward, away from Papyrus, instantly relieved. Heaving to catch his breath. Cradling the pounding essence, trying to calm it with his own hands. After a few seconds, sure the fire lit might eventually die away, he slipped it back into place under his shirt hastily. Safely tucking it away. He held his hands over his shirt, feeling the fervent thudding beneath his ribcage.

That had been close.

He was so relieved he didn’t realize how the silence, obscured by his thudding soul, had fallen to an uneasy undertone.

“sorry.”

The word dragged him back to the moment. To the tenseness in the air. To the sorrow in the atmosphere. To the frayed edges of the apology. The relief drained out of Red’s face.

 “i’m so sorry.” He could see Papyrus’ hands ball into fists atop his knees out of the edge of his eye. “i’ve said that a lot lately,” a voice laughed wretchedly behind him. A mangled sound that was not quite a laugh nor quite a sob. “sorry i keep doing things i have to apologize for.” He sounded broken. Rejected. Snivelingly horrid.

Red was worried about ruining him, but this Papyrus was already ruined, wasn’t he?

His soul _ached._

If anything was going to shatter his soul; a broken Papyrus was top of the list.

“No,” Red denied. This had gone so wrong so quickly. Mind racing to try and figure out what he’d just done wrong. He hadn’t wanted Papyrus to be upset. That was the whole point! He shook his head, horrified eyes fixed down in his lap, clenching a fist tight around the fabric of his shirt –above his freshest injury.

Pap was mumbling out some incoherent self-loathing behind him. He shouted against it. “No!”

Why did he sound like that? Why did he say that?

This wasn’t his fault. None of this was Pap’s fault. Red was the one who’d gotten into a fight. Red was the one who’d used his own life’s magic as energy for a battle. Red was the fucking moron who couldn’t separate pleasure from necessity. It was Red’s fault Papyrus sounded so miserable, even though he’d done nothing wrong.

_But he’d made him think he had._

He had to make this up to him. He had to calm Pap down.

His bones were still burning. His mind was still swirling. Soul still pounding a mile a minute within him. Each punch to his ribcage screaming at him. None of that was Pap’s fault either.

Red was just a fucking moron.

He spun around in Papyrus’ lap, throwing his arms loosely behind the taller’s neck. He pulled him down to his level. Clanking his teeth against Papyrus’ in a kiss.

Why did he think this would calm him down? Stupid! Fucking stupid! This was exactly what he didn’t want to take advantage of! Was he even thinking straight, anymore?

Definitely not.

Still; he had to try to comfort him, didn’t he? He couldn’t leave Papyrus feeling dejected. Unwanted.

“This isn’t ‘yer fault,” He murmured into Papyrus’ teeth in the most soothing voice he could muster, cradling his head between his arms like it was precious. He lapped his tongue once apologetically across the pearly whites, pulling Pap even closer into him. Tenderly wrapping his arms around his skull. He didn’t try and deepen their kiss, just held him there for a few seconds, pressing his mouth against the other’s.

Slowly, Papyrus relaxed into him, wrapping his arms around the little form against him with a hesitant strength, like he _wanted_ to reciprocate.

Red wasn’t going to take that offer. That was a trap. A sweet snare.

Pap was broken, too.

Like him.

 Sure, it was easy to overlook when the bonehead liked to smile and laugh like everything was fine all the time, but Red knew he wasn’t fine. Everything he’d ever known had gone to shit! He couldn’t be thinking straight either. Red couldn’t trust him to say what he wanted right now. Red couldn’t even trust himself with what he wanted right now. They were both damaged, trying to find missing pieces in the other that might not even be there.

The only truth here was that the warmth of another person felt good.

Great, even.

But he wasn’t about to use Pap as some last ditch coping mechanism for a goddamn nightmare just because it ‘ _felt good’_. He wasn’t about to let Pap fall into desperation, either.

When he pulled back, it was gently and not very far. Pap’s face was miserable –honestly miserable- for once. Not some hollow mask or lackadaisical grin. His expression was just as shattered as Red expected anyone who’d been through what he had’s expression to be. Face dark. Frown grim. Eyes tired and worn. Terrible bags. Tears leaking out of the sockets. Yet his orange eyes were searching Red’s beneath a furrowed brow for _something_. Confused, but longingly searching.

He seemed a bit calmer.

This didn’t have to go too far, but if another person was all Pap needed right now to feel better; Red could do that much.

“’Ya did good,” he clanked his teeth against Pap’s again in a quick peck, pulling him down to meet his fangs. Sliding his arms down his shoulders. He pressed their teeth together in a second short peck before he drew back a bit.

 “’Ya did great. Ok?” He held his head between bandaged hands. Then, licked his red tongue over one of Pap’s sockets, taking away the salty tears. Pap blinked an eye as the wet appendage ran over it.

The larger form was melting in his arms. Slumping gradually in to meet him. Pap needed this.

More than Red did.

“Thanks. Thank you,” Red murmured. He drew Pap into another long kiss, hugging his neck close. Pressing himself against the taller form to give him whatever warmth he needed.

“’Ya haven’t done anything wrong. ‘Ya’ve done everything, right.” Red pressed his forehead against Papyrus’ affectionately, nuzzling his head gently before settling there. Resting his arms across his shoulders. He let a small, affectionate smile tug his fangs as he stared into his face.

Pap looked so timid in his arms. Slouched down into his hold at his level. Eyes shyly downcast, but his arms were still firmly locked around his back. Not pressing him in, but hovering behind him like he didn’t want to let him go. Red loved it. He tried not to love it more than he should.

The important thing was that the tears had stopped.

“’Ya don’t need to say sorry to me, ok? Not ever. No matter what ‘ya do.”

Pap didn’t respond with words. His arms tightened around Red’s back like he didn’t want him to stop.

Red smirked, continuing, nipping lightly at his mouth, “What, ‘ya big baby? Use yer words.”

“why, then?” He asked brokenly.

Pap always had to ask the hard questions.

Red swallowed, glancing regretfully off to the side. “Pap, I-I can’t do more than this,” He mumbled, pressing a kiss apologetically to Pap’s grimace. “Let’s leave the soul alone. Trust me.”

 “trust you?” He asked pained, orange eyelights flicked over to bore back into his own. “Red! that’s not even your real name!”

He was taken off guard, but he tried to play it off. He smiled sheepishly back.

“I’d rather be Red-“

“i don’t care about the name, Red! let me try and heal your soul, _please_!”

He had no intention of handing his soul over ever again. Maybe Pap _would_ be okay with wherever that might go, but Red wouldn’t forgive himself if he took advantage of Papyrus like that.

He wondered if Pap would be so okay with it if he told him his real name.

He wouldn’t burden him with that, though. Instead, he smiled back, finding the concern that was rising in Papyrus’ voice towards an apparent stranger genuinely touching.

“I don’t mind if it stays like this. I mean, it hasn’t shattered yet.”

Pap shook his head, aghast. “we can’t leave it like that. you said you didn’t dust, but what does that even mean? are you immortal? indestructible?”

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly.

“then, why do you get hurt all the damn time?!” He demanded. The fury there stifled by sorrow. “you think it’s ok because you don’t dust?”

The thick emotion in his voice took Red aback. His hands slipped from around Pap’s neck. Eyes big, he could only shake his head in response as he leaned away, but Pap didn’t let him go. His hands tightened around his back, holding him close, so he couldn’t escape.

His voice lowered to a gentler tone as he leaned in. “i know you still _hurt_ when you get wounded, so why do it?” He pressed a skeletal kiss to Red’s forehead, and somehow _that_ , from everything else they’d just done, sent his whole face blushing. Red put his hands up weakly between them because _that_ , of all things, was somehow too much stimulation for him. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing got past the lump in his throat, so he closed it again.

Pap smirked softly now, teasing back, “use your words, Red. at least tell me what’s going on in your head!”

“It’s… advantageous?”

“advantageous?” Pap asked, unconvinced.

“Yeah?” Red wasn’t sure himself.

“to get hurt all the time?”

“…Yes?” More like it was advantageous because he could use it to get hurt; something he’d never been able to do before. He could use it to experience what it felt to have more than one hit point for once –and he felt strong.

Pap sighed in frustration, sensing more to the story. He squeezed his eyes shut like he had a migraine, flopping back to the mattress. Yet he wasn’t willing to let go of his captive. He took Red along with him, who yelped a small cry of protest as he fell on top of the taller skeleton. “what’s that liquid you bleed?”

“Blood?”

Another sigh.

“how did you know how to get onto the elevator?”

Red shrugged his shoulders, “I’ve used it before.”

Pap shook his head slowly in appalled disapproval.

“who taught you how to cook?” He tried.

“I already told ‘ya that.”

Pap closed his eyes in annoyance, rolling onto his side. “fuck, Red. can you give a straight answer?” He didn’t let go, though, trapping Red even further beneath him with a leg thrown lazily over his lower half.

Red didn’t like being dragged along with him like some toy. Now they were back in the position they’d started in this morning, Pap curled around him with Red facing into his chest. He looked up at Pap, matching him with equal annoyance. “Are ‘ya tryin’ ‘ta analyze me?” Red growled low.

“just thought i should know who’s been staying at my house the last the few days.” He shot back jadedly. Though, still, not letting go.

“Yeah?” Red grunted mockingly. “After weeks of a stranger staying at yer place, ‘ya finally have the mind to consider _maybe_ ‘ya should know who they are first? Brilliant. So, what have ‘ya learned?” He prodded sarcastically, like a scolding parent.

“that you won’t give me a straight answer,” Pap growled back.

“Sounds like a real shitty houseguest. ‘Ya should probably,” He paused to push against the arms trapping him, “throw that asshole out.” Red growled in annoyance, distracted, as he ducked, trying to dodge out of Pap’s arms, but they were just as secure as they had been this morning.

The arms clenched around him, stifling any attempts at freedom. “just,” Pap shut his eyes, sighing, “answer me this.” His tone was more serious now.

“What?” Red grumbled.

“why are you calling my name in your sleep?” He asked.

Alarmed, Red nervously glanced up only to find eyes boring back into him. There was something in those orange eyes. It might have been hope.

 “I dunno.” Red didn’t want to think about it. No answer he could give could possibly match the hope in those orange eyes right now. “It’s j-just dreams and shit.”

Pap smiled sadly. “am i ever going to get the truth out of you; or are you just going to keep lying to me?”

He didn’t want to know the truth. Red was _certain_ he didn’t want to know the truth.

His eyes glanced guiltily to the side. Fists curled nervously into the fabric of the sleeve he’d been trying to fight off.

Papyrus sighed heavily, chest heaving. Red felt the whole breath rock them both as they settled into the mattress.

Pap was disappointed in him. Red couldn’t blame him. In fact, he was surprised he wasn’t more upset at him. If he’d known he was lying to him this whole time, why didn’t he call him out on it sooner? Although, the name was understandable; after all, it was a pretty dumb fake name. He probably couldn’t have picked anything that screamed ‘not real!’ more than a freaking color.

Still, the fact he’d known he wasn’t truthful with him from the start and had put up with him this long probably spoke volumes about what kind of people they were. Red would’ve axed a stranger upfront for even considering it. Even with this favorable scenario; that didn’t mean Red hadn’t still managed to kill something: He could guess the chances of Pap ever trusting him were nigh impossible.

 And that stung.

Red gave up trying to escape his hold. He didn’t even want to, anyway. Instead, he slipped his arms around the other’s waist, dropping his head into his chest. It _still_ felt good.

“Call me dishonest, but I meant it, Pap.”

“meant what?”

“Thanks.” He mumbled, rubbing his cheek against the cloth, settling into place. “For everything.” His bandaged hands dug into the back of the hoodie selfishly.

Pap warred with an expression on his face. Finally smiling faintly down at him, he adjusted himself on the sheets around the smaller form in his arms. Once he settled, a familiar hand stroked the back of his cracked skull. Red fell into it, easing against the larger frame.

“i don’t think i can throw my shitty houseguest out, Red. he’s too cute.”

Red snorted a muffled laugh into his chest, “Don’t get used to it.”

_He_ shouldn’t get used to it, either. He couldn’t do this to Pap everyday or he’d drive him insane. But just today was fine, right?

The hand caressed the back of his head, lulling his eyes closed. His racing mind was hushed over the next several, silent minutes as Pap’s hand stroked his skull. When he finally fell asleep against him, for once, he slept soundly.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter:  
> Pap chose not to ask.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  CHANGE LOG:  
> Minor updates to probably all of the chapters! But I'll be uploading those later because I wanted to give you this.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> Mandatory Recap:  
> Get a room, you two!  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Red felt the covers shift beneath him, pulling his consciousness back with each tilt. It took him a few seconds to realize that there were large hands delicately trying to tug his own away. Oh, sure, Pap had pinned him down the whole night, but _now_ he wanted Red to let go. Now that Red had grown accustomed to the temperature of another person in his arms. It took them a few moments, but the hands did finally succeed in untangling themselves. Then, they set him carefully back on what he assumed was the mattress as the comfort dipped with the movement of weight at the other end.

The absence of his warmth simply left him feeling cold.

“Pap?” He fought to open his eyes.

Papyrus, who was standing at the edge of the bed, turned back at the voice. He crouched down, resting his elbows on the mattress so they were at the same height. He smiled, but his brow pinched in a worried crinkle. “did i wake you up? go back to sleep, ok?”

That just made him want to wake up more.

“Where ‘ya goin’?” He asked groggily, fighting that morning haze off his brain.

Pap’s hand rested on his forehead, trying to soothe him back into slumber. “i’m gonna go check on the traps real quick,” He answered in a hushed tone.

Red’s eyes leapt open.

The traps! He had forgotten all about them. Pap was going by himself? Red didn’t know if he wanted to let Pap out of his sight just yet. Especially after last night. Being left alone only seemed to make the guy miserable. Red might not be the best company in the world, but he was the _only_ company.

 “I-I’ll come with ‘ya.”

Pap stood up, one brow raising skeptically. “i think you should stay here.”

“I’m _fine,_ ” Red stressed, crawling to the edge of the bed. In fact, he felt rather good today. He threw his mummified legs over the side. Small stings spread beneath the bandages, but, again, the pain wasn’t anything he couldn’t keep off his face. His expression stayed solid. It was only a dull, distant ache.

Pap stepped in front of him, his orange hoodie swaying with the movement as he blocked the smaller’s way. “you should really stay here.”

Red didn’t want to stay here. He actually felt good after sleeping for once. He doubted he’d have the same luck if he stayed in bed all day and gave the nightmares another chance. He flicked his eyes up to Pap’s defiantly, “I ain’t stayin’ in bed all day. Let me come with ‘ya or I’m gonna go wander off somewhere else.”

Pap sighed, not quite defeated; more like he just didn’t have the will to fend off the stubborn skeleton’s claim. “just… don’t do anything stressful –and keep your bandages out of the dirty water!”

“I ain’t gonna fall in!”

“he claims having already fallen in twice,” Pap narrated.

“I only fell in once!” Red corrected, hopping to his feet. “…I jumped in the other time.”

“please don’t jump in either,” Pap smirked.

“I won’t.” Red rolled his eyes. Pap sure could nag. Regardless, a small smile found its way to his fangs. Yesterday Pap had looked as if he’d lost all spirit. Today he was well enough to be annoying.

“I’ll be fine,” He insisted, walking towards the door, the footsteps of the other close behind. “Where’s my coat?”

“downstairs. on the sofa.”

Red made his way down the steps trying to make it look as natural and as effortless as he could. With the stiffening bandages around his legs, that was rather difficult. Still, he thought he managed to impersonate a healthy person fairly well. At least, Pap didn’t call him out on it.

But he was starting to realize Pap probably noticed a lot of things and simply never mentioned them aloud. He glanced nervously back at the taller skeleton following him once he was at the bottom. His lazy poker face was unreadable, but he _was_ watching him.

“What?” Red grumbled.

“i didn’t say anything,” Pap stated. His teeth slanting in amusement at the shorter’s growing paranoia.

“Just say it,” Red growled through his teeth, crossing his arms across his chest.

He snickered, “you look like you’re learning how to walk for the first time.”

“It’s just the bandages! They ain’t exactly easy to move in.”

“uh-huh,” Pap hummed lazily, “just don’t fall over.”

Pap’s mask of nonchalance was back up in full force today. An unreadable fortress masking his every thought. And Pap had been complaining about _him_ not telling the truth! What a joke! He should try looking in the mirror for once at that stone-faced smile of his. It was impossible to read; and far too convenient. Red had no clue what might be stewing in that head of his!

All the more reason not to leave him alone today.

He turned his attention over to the couch where his leather winter coat was sprawled over the armrest. Or what was left of it. It was shredded to an inch of what might still be considered a jacket. Hundreds of tiny holes marred the leather, fraying the edges of the fabric into a shabby mess. Scuffs littered all over the coat. Some of the rim of the furred hood now balding thanks to acid searing the fur off. As he held it up in front of himself to get a good look at the decrepit piece, he could still see the abrasion where he’d sewn fishing line in to close the first hole.

Red frowned. He wasn’t sure he could fix this.

“that coat’s pretty sturdy. i’m glad it took most of the damage instead of you,” Pap noted. “but it’s not much of a coat anymore. want to borrow some clothes?”

Red glanced anxiously back at Papyrus for a second before looking back at his coat. “No,” He said, slipping the frayed sleeves over his arms. “This is fine. I’ll wear this.” He zipped the zipper all the way up the front. It wasn’t like it had shrunk or anything. It still fit.

Pap raised a brow. “you sure? i’m sure we’ve got a jacket somewhere around here you could use instead.”

“Nah, I’m fine. Don’t bother,” Red said, continuing to the front door and slipping on his equally worn sneakers.

Pap looked him over. “i think you’re going to freeze to death.”

“I’m a skeleton.”

“We still get cold,” Pap corrected.

Red clicked his teeth. Caught. “We’re going to Waterfall, not Snowdin,” He protested, stepping out into the bitter air. Pap, of course, was right; he was freezing. It was snowing outside today of all days. A light dusting of flurries dancing down with a frigid wind. There were so many holes in his jacket it wasn’t doing much of what a jacket should. Plus, his bandaged legs sunk deeply into a thick layer of cold snow. He plodded down the path in a hurry before Papyrus could do the sensible thing and make him stay behind –He wasn’t getting left behind! The stiffness the bindings caused in his legs made him put extra effort into traversing the street.

Papyrus followed him, his apprehensive voice trailing up from behind. “Red,” he tested, “why don’t you want to use another coat?”

“I like this coat,” Red answered dismissively.

“ _Red_ ,” Pap called in a pleading tone.

Red turned around to face him. The taller skeleton was standing a bit further back in the snow, trailing a bit too far behind. He seemed to contrast the white snow like a shadow. His hands buried into his orange hoodie, shoulder’s slumped, eyes boring into the small skeleton, that worried pinch back at the brow, “just a little honesty, Red, please?”

A surge of panic gripped Red seeing a crack in his usually solid mask.

 He supposed there was no reason to go _out of his way_ to lie to Papyrus. Especially if it might calm him down. So, why did it feel so weird to speak the truth?

“I _do_ like this coat. My brother gave it ‘ta me,” He answered honestly, but plastered a very dishonest smile across his face. His expression not quite as truthful as his words. “It was back when we were still kids. H-he went through a lot ‘ta get it himself, but he gave it to me in the end. Heh.” He kinda felt like he was rambling. “He was real cheeky ‘bout the whole thing, too. The little brat. He’s not the type who shares often. I don’t want a different one. That wouldn’t be the same, ‘ya’know?” He kept the smile frozen in place as he sunk his head down, eyes falling to his sneakers. “I don’t wanna lose it.”

 “i’ll keep an eye out for some thread.”

Red looked back up.

“if we find some, i’ll help you patch it up,” Pap shrugged, smiling like the offer wasn’t a big deal, “we could even use that fishing line. i mean, it might take some work, but, if we both worked on it; it would eventually get done, right? don’t worry,” He reassured, walking over and taking his usual spot at Red’s side, “you won’t have to get rid of it. besides,” He scratched the back of his head, a faint orange dusting his pointed cheekbones. “it looks good on you.”

Red blushed because Pap just had to find a way to make this weird. This was why he didn’t want to tell him things. His eyes darted between that soft expression on the tall skeleton’s face and his own sneakers. Eventually deciding the sneakers were safer to look at. “Thanks,” he mumbled, spinning back towards Waterfall.

This time they walked together towards their destination. Pap easily paced his slower steps, until the crunch of snow dissolved into the resounding tap of stone. Red thought the rock would be easier to walk on than the snow, but it wasn’t much of an improvement. Instead of fighting through thick mounds of white fluff, he ended up placing each step carefully on the slick stone. As he kept his focus on his feet; he swore he caught slight movements out of the corner of his eye that he purposely tried to ignore. The streams. The gentle sway of echo flowers. …Namely, _Pap._

Making small, jumpy movements as if he were ready to catch Red any second. Was he that worried about him? That his unreadable persona kept slipping off? Although, Pap never did actually grab him. Mostly because there was no reason to. Red didn’t know what he was so worried about. Despite the slower pace, they made it out to the first trap in good time.

“ok,” Pap said, as he waded into the water, “you wait here. i’ll take care of the trap.”

Red could only stare agape at the huge, stinking mound.

The trap was loaded; heavily over-stuffed with garbage from the surface, threatening to collapse the whole contraption at any minute. Truth be told, it was a miracle it hadn’t collapsed already. Hell, it might even collapse on Pap! From the looks of things, this was likely the first time anyone had been here in a long time. That was a _lot_ of soggy garbage to shift through.

He found the realization a bit unnerving.

It meant Pap probably hadn’t once left Red’s side while he was bedridden.

 “Hey…,” Red trailed off, shifting impatiently. He swallowed dryly. “Pap?”

“yeah?”

“How l-long was I out for?”

“hmm,” Pap seemed to think, as he dove straight into sorting through the pile, “i didn’t really count the days. a week at most maybe?” He shrugged as if days didn’t make much of a difference. “maybe it was less than that?”

Red obviously cared more than Pap did.

A week of being a liability?

He frowned.

A whole week? Setting aside for now the issue of how much magic Papyrus had probably already wasted on him and never once recovered. All of those traps would be swamped - _if_ they were even standing anymore. And if they weren’t, they’d have to build new ones, which wasn’t an easy task. This would take all day to clean. More likely; _multiple_ days to complete.

And that would be with the _two_ of them working.

Red twiddled his thumbs nervously at the side of the river, just watching Pap work alone.

He should help. He’d been a waste long enough. It was time to earn his keep.

He took a step towards the river.

“M-maybe I should…”

“no,” Pap demanded sternly from the water. As if he could read his mind.

“But if-“

“Red,” Pap warned in a low tone, stopping his work to look over to where he was. He sighed, “don’t.”

The tone didn’t sit well with Red. It wasn’t so much a request as it was a sarcastic reminder. Suggesting he’d be even _less_ helpful if he did try to help. In his own way, Pap was scolding him. Scolding. Red irked a brow.

“I can help,” He snapped back. A matching growl on his fangs. Pap had been a prude all morning. Even injured as he was; he could be useful if given the chance. He didn’t need to be coddled.

“you can stay out of the water,” Pap corrected.

Red dared a step in just to spite that insufferable tone.

Pap stood up from where he was standing. “Red,” He warned.

“Just let me help ‘ya!”

“no!”

“The bandages will be fine!” Red barreled on. “It’s just water.”

Pap came after him. “i told you not to fall in!”

“I ain’t falling in! I’m walkin’ in!”

“do you ever listen?!” Pap snagged him by the ratty hood of his jacket, hauling him up out of the water.

Red struggled fiercely against the hold. Why did everyone always seem to pick him up like this?! Was it because he was small? Was it easy to pick on him or something? He thrashed and he squirmed and he twisted his way in the hold, kicking up a fuss. “Damn it! Put me down!”

Pap stubbornly held onto the flailing monster. Matching Red’s booming voice with his own. “you said you would stay out of the water! for _fuck’s_ sake! humor me for once!”

“I changed my mind! And I said; Let. Go!”

Surprise; he wasn’t as helpless as Pap thought he was. Red swung his feet up, wrapping his bandaged legs around the long boney arm constricting him. He chomped down on the forearm with his sharp fangs!

“yeeooww!” Pap instinctually shook his arm. The erratic, jarring motions dislodged Red. He smacked into the stone below, beneath the shallow icy water. A splash announcing the fall. A shock of pain shuddered up through his injuries from the impact, but Red held his demeanor by gritting his teeth.

Pap was holding out his arm with the other, twisting his hand to inspect the offending location. “you _bit_ me,” He said incredulously, looking down at the soaking wet skeleton.

Red impudently stuck his tongue out in response.

Pap huffed a short wisp of air through his nose cavity. This time, he grabbed Red properly. Still dealing with the leftover shockwaves from falling, Red put up significantly less of a fight. The larger skeleton scooped him out of the water. Once he’d discarded the disobedient monster onto drier land, Pap crouched down in front of him, holding Red with a stern look before he sighed in aggravation. Rubbing his hands back across his skull.

“what’s wrong?”

“’Ya can stop treating me like I’m fragile already!”

“you _are_ fragile.”

Red leaned his row of sharp, pointed fangs forward, “No, I ain’t.”

Pap didn’t even consider backing down. “yes, you are.” He cut the fiery skeleton off before he could retort. “i’m not saying it to be mean, Red. i don’t care if you think you’re invincible. you _are_ weak right now.”

Red opened his big mouth to protest, but Pap leaned his unimpressed expression onto an arm. In a timely, idle manner, he flicked the rebellious skeleton in the shin to prove his point. Red’s mouth snapped shut to steady his expression, as the small tremors crawled up his bones. Pap smirked a crooked grin in victory.

So, he had noticed that, too.

Pap’s hand quickly found the top of his head, rubbing once down the back of his cracked skull. It massaged a soothing, practiced rhythm into the back of his neck. Somehow, it seemed to ease away the damage done. Gradually stilling the tremors in Red’s bones.

A sly trick.

 “i just want you to heal right now, ok?”

_Healing._

The concept was admittedly a bit new to Red. If he was good enough to stand, he was good enough to work. That was a principle he had always lived by- _survived_ by. But not once in his life had he felt as comfortable as he did lazily tumbling through these days in Pap’s sheets. Those simple moments of rest had become irreplaceable to him since he came here. Without them, Red knew how harsh life could be.

He trusted that Papyrus knew what he was talking about. Even Red could see the positive effects a bit of downtime had on their current circumstance. This scenario of survival would have been very different without moments of ease to take his mind off of where and how he’d be getting their next meal. Those fears would have inevitably built up. He knew Pap’s concerns weren’t misplaced because he held similar concerns for _Pap_.

He wanted _Papyrus_ to heal.

 It was hard to tell behind that lazy grin he always wore, but Red had seen it fall enough by now to know a full night’s sleep was hardly enough to take his mind off their situation. He was _certain_ it wasn’t. Slowly, Pap was being worn down. And Red was watching him crumble. The current state of the Underground obviously weighed a lot heavier on Pap’s mind than it did on his own.

And this concept of healing was frustratingly new to Red. He had no idea how to provide someone with that. Simply offering up his company didn’t seem to be doing the trick. In fact, Red being around seemed to be the opposite of helpful to Papyrus. Simply being nearby was only making him worry more. He had overestimated the worth of his own company.

Red deflated a bit, eyes sinking to the floor.

Pap’s hand didn’t leave his skull. It brushed down under his chin, so he could tilt the timid skeleton’s head. Papyrus smirked wider when the red irises inevitably flicked back to him. “now you’re all wet,” he snickered. “let’s get you back inside. can you stand?”

After a brief pause, Red sighed. If he wasn’t doing any good here, he might as well go back. He nodded his head.

When the hand fell away, he lumbered onto his feet. As he’d predicted, the water hadn’t done anything unpleasant to the abrasions on his bones. He could still stand. However, he found difficulty resting his full weight onto his right leg. It passed his mind that he might have fallen on it wrong earlier and twisted his ankle.

He frowned.

That was his own fault. It wouldn’t be very fun to walk back on.

Pap seemed to notice the hesitation paired with how he was a bit shaky on his legs. The towering skeleton spun around and crouched right in front of him, cupping his hands below; kindly offering his back.

“hop on.” He said matter-of-factly.

Red wanted to object, he was sick of being babied! But he didn’t want to have to walk back on this ankle, either. Obviously, there was only one sensible choice.

Silently, he tapped his bandaged hands against the offered back, spreading his skeletal fingers out along the fabric. Papyrus’ hoodie was warm. Red had grown familiar with its particular heat. The small skeleton leaned his weight into the thin form. He could probably wrap his arms all the way around. He didn’t. Instead, he awkwardly rested them behind Pap’s shoulders. It probably wasn’t the safest choice to keep him onboard, so Pap hooked his arms under his ass and hefted him off the stone floor.

Pap readjusted the new weight on his back once. Then, easily began plodding back the way they’d come. All in a manner that hinted he’d done this dozens of times before. As if this were the most natural thing in the world. After a few quiet seconds, it was clear he wasn’t changing course.

At all.

Red could feel some heat beginning to flush across his cheeks. His palms shook with embarrassment. For some reason he was expected this humiliating moment to be a lot briefer.

“W-why are ‘ya walkin’?” Red raised his voice, mortified. Crimson heat flaring on his bones. “Just teleport us back!”

“heh. sometimes you just have to enjoy the scenery, Red,” Pap said in a lazy, nonchalant drawl.

Red scowled audibly back. He considered teleporting them both back himself; but he didn’t. He allowed himself to be carried the whole way. He let the wet stones pass far below them. He let himself watch the long legs pace in the reflection of the blue pools. He let the chatter of stupid conversations they’ve had echo around them as Papyrus steered them back towards home.

“An’ what scenery do ‘ya expect me to enjoy while I’m at the house all day?” He griped.

“why not dream some up? Think of the wonders a good nap might do.”

“I just woke up,” Red grumbled, his little hands tightened into the back of the orange hoodie.

“it’s still early. you can pretend you never woke up.”

“Heh.” He laughed dryly. That never worked. “I wish.”

“all you have to do is close your eyes~” Pap claimed whimsically.

Red sighed. He tapped his head against the back before him and closed his eyes sarcastically, “It ain’t working.”

He felt Pap shrug his shoulders. The droll of his lazy voice picking up a tune. Humming as he made their way back home. It was a calming song with a pleasant air. The rocking of each long step only adding to the illusion. Clearly timed and intended for one purpose.

“That’s cheatin’,” Red chuckled.

The tune faltered a bit as Pap laughed himself, but it carried on into the chill of Snowdin’s air. Red huddled into Papyrus’ back, searching for the warmth he’d become accustomed to. He slipped his hands around the thin torso, pressing his face into the hoodie. A small, comfortable smile on his fangs. He admittedly felt only a tad sleepy by the time they finally reached the front door. Red blinked in an asynchronous manner, realizing they’d arrived at their destination. And realizing, once again, he’d been swept away in Pap’s rather persuasive pace. Embarrassed, he mumbled, “Okay. ‘Ya can put me down now.”

“you sure?”  Pap asked, opening the front door.

“Yeah. I can walk at least this much.”

Pap stepped inside the doorway, spinning around to crouch down low. Red slipped off his back, landing lightly on his bandaged legs. When the weight disappeared, Pap turned to look down at the little monster. Unspoken words hung awkwardly between them, as neither were accustomed to even brief goodbyes.

Red shifted uncomfortably.

So, this is where they were parting, huh? He didn’t really want Pap to go, but he was hardly going to beg him out loud! Instead, he slipped his hands into his pockets, restraining himself. He _sulked_ , glaring off to the side.

“i could take you up to the room?” Pap offered, smirking.

“I told ‘ya. I ain’t goin’ ‘ta sleep.”

“but, you’ll stay inside?” Pap asked, crouching down to his level. Trying to put his face in Red’s vision who was obviously trying to do the opposite.

“I’ll consider it.” Red grumbled begrudgingly. Head overly angled to cut Pap from his sight.

When Pap failed to properly steal Red’s attention, he slipped his long arms over the other’s shoulders. Resting his hands behind Red’s neck. “don’t overwork yourself. ok?”

Red grunted, hands still shoved defiantly into his pockets. He tried to pretend like the proximity didn’t bother him in the slightest, but trying to keep his eyes cast to the side just squished his cheek against the orange puffy sleeves. Fearing the slight glow on his cheeks might give him away; he resigned himself to burying his face into the comfortable fabric.

“get some rest?”

“ _fnh_!” Red puffed into a mouthful of the sleeve.

Pap wasn’t satisfied with just that, though. Abruptly, he tugged him in, securing a firm hold around Red’s neck. The motion pitched the small monster forward. Red’s hands quickly left their pockets to dig into the orange sleeves just in time to stop himself from falling into Pap’s lap! Still, even after preventing disaster, his balance was heavily skewed, leaning in favor towards the taller monster.

He might fall.

Panicked, he looked up at Papyrus; revealing a face flushed with red heat.

Pap’s grin was huge –and very, very close. The whole ordeal clearly intentional. “you’ll take it easy?” The sly monster teased.

“I said, ‘ _fine’_! Leave, already!”

“you won’t kiss me goodbye?”

Red flinched. Surely, Pap meant it as another tease, but he entertained it for a split second in his own mind. He blushed all the more. His fingers furled into the sleeves much harder. Red tried to lean himself as far back in the hold as he could. Which wasn’t very far away at all. Flustered, he begged, “Just go, Pap!”

Pap didn’t pull him in closer this time. But he didn’t let go either. “just one?” He whispered lower a hint of disappointment in his tone, but Red could hear him loud and clear.

He couldn’t take this any longer. The magic was rushing to his head. If Pap wasn’t letting go anyway, _fuck it_!

Face blasted crimson, Red surged forward and smacked his teeth roughly against Papyrus’.

They connected.

“mnh!”

They fell violently apart.

Pap had to withdraw his hands to cradle his teeth.

“ow!” Pap whined, rubbing the sore, “that was more of a headbutt than a kiss.”

“Just _leave._ ” Red hissed back, humiliated. Not _exactly_ what he was planning. He’d fallen to the floorboards, similarly covering his own teeth with both his hands. That had actually, physically hurt. He sat up, trying to rub the sting from where their teeth had connected on the back of his sleeve.

Where their teeth had connected.

With a neglected mumble, he added, “Just… don’t stay out all night.”

“nyeh heh!” Pap laughed behind his own hands. “you got it. i’ll come back to check on you,” He winked.

“’Ya don’t have’ta do that!” Red was quick to correct.

“then, i’ll see you later.” Pap said, standing back to his full height. Red could still see a grin stretching past the hand still covering his mouth. “don’t forget to take it easy!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Red said shooing him out the door as he lumbered to his feet. He watched Pap trek down the snowy path a bit before he shut the wooden door after him. He turned back to the silent living room. Without someone to lighten the mood, the shadows seemed to hang thicker in the corners of the room. The small creaks and moans of the wooden structure the only hint of company. The house sure felt empty without Papyrus.

What was he going to do all day?

Despite what Pap said, he definitely wasn’t going to sleep. So, he could rule that option off the list.

He supposed the first order of business would be fixing the soggy bandages on his pelvis and legs while Papyrus wasn’t here. Red didn’t want to be _alive_ in a scenario where Pap tried to meticulously check every cut on his lower half like he did when he re-bandaged his hands. It would be good to take care of them long before that ever happened. Plus, if he fixed the bindings so they weren’t so constricting, he could walk normally again. Then, maybe Pap would stop coddling him so much.

So, he set to work.

He hobbled upstairs with his twisted ankle and retrieved the first aid kit still lingering in the bedroom, setting it carefully on the mattress. Then, he eased the weight off his foot by collapsing onto the bed himself. He kicked off his worn sneakers along with his shorts, which he discarded in a tangled, messy heap on the bedroom floor. He doubted Papyrus would mind. Judging by the rest of the mess on the floor that seemed to be how he took off his clothes, too.

Next he spent some time unwinding the current bindings from their bones. Freeing up his legs and pelvis to the cooler air. His ivory bones had a myriad of new dents and chips in them from the amalgamate’s many teeth, but, compared to the warzone the area was before, seeing the new injuries as anything other than a joke was almost laughable. His legs hosted countless scrapes and scars, nicks and claw marks that only seemed to increase in frequency the _higher_ one looked up his leg towards his thighs. A cruel pattern marking narrow escapes, misfortune, and rough treatment. The actual pelvic bone was a sight all its own. Unlike the legs, no section here seemed to be spared from damage. No areas of brief reprise or cleanliness. Every inch was scuffed and marred from the obvious claw marks nicking the silhouette of his hips to the damn near rug-burn of scratches towards the center. He couldn’t blame these on “narrow escapes”.

He can’t believe Pap had seen this.

The new markings might have even been an _improvement_ , since the addition spaced the damage out evenly along the entirety of his body instead of all of the scars obviously focusing in on one specific area. Hell, he preferred them! He just wished some of them weren’t still bleeding.

He rummaged in the kit for his options, drawing forth a roll of bandages and several band aids. Red went to work rewrapping the clustered bleeding sections in gauze, while concealing single offending cuts with band aids. Unlike the mummification Papyrus had performed on him, the final result was a messily, wrapped shin and opposing thigh, one bound ankle for support, and a patchwork of disorderly band aids up and down his pelvis and legs. It freed up his movement immensely.

An hour or more had gone by when he made his way into the kitchen, the decency of shorts covering him once again. He figured, if he had nothing else to do, he might as well prepare dinner for them both and spare the kitchen the inevitable destruction Papyrus would rain upon it if he assisted.

Less to clean was always good.

The house creaked in agreement as Red took a peek in the fridge. It appeared as if Papyrus had brought a few ingredients over from Muffet’s to store in the fridge, but had just left them sitting there. He probably didn’t know any recipes he could use them for, but Red did. There were plenty of eggs here. They might not have the fixings for sauce anymore, but maybe they had enough ingredients for a very simple quiche. On the other hand, he doubted there was any flour or sugar in the cottage for crust. He didn’t want to get Papyrus involved by asking him to fetch some more things from Muffet’s. Plus it’d be a waste to use so many of their rations on a simple quiche. At the very least, he could cook some even simpler eggs. He had just started setting the ingredients out on the kitchen counter when the house emptily creaked again.

That was getting annoying real fast. Had the house always been so noisy?

After several minutes, he heard a noise again. Followed by a hollow tap on wood. This time, it was decidedly not a normal house noise. It almost sounded like a knock.

Red perked up.

Papyrus had come back.

Which was a ridiculous thought. Papyrus didn’t have to knock on his own front door. Hell, he didn’t even have to _use_ his front door. He could just teleport into the living room.

Which brought him to his second thought.

_Someone else_ wouldn’t have to knock either. The door was always unlocked.

Wearily, struggling not to let his paranoia set in, Red leaned back, peering out the kitchen archway at the front door. Sure enough, the door was slightly ajar, tapping against the wooden frame when the winter winds kicked up. The result was a creaky hinge followed by slight, wooden knocking sounds which occurred at infrequent intervals. The paranoia seeped in.

That was not how he’d left the door.

If Pap had come back, he would have said something even if Red had been butt naked on the bed.

…Wouldn’t he?

Red dropped the eggs, favoring his bone club in his hand at this particular moment. Commendably, he fought off his first instinct to call out Pap’s name in curiosity. Instead, he silently made his way to the living room, weapon drawn. The stocky skeleton carefully hesitated at the archway, his red eyes scanning the room beyond for signs of life. Nothing outstanding caught his attention.

But alarm bells were already screaming in his head about how every detail of this whole scenario was _wrong_. With only the two of them, nothing in the room should ever be any different than how he’d left it.

Keeping his eyes peeled, he carefully picked his way towards the only motion; the front door. Oblivious to Red’s fretful predicament, it continued to bang against its own framework. As he eased his way across the room, nothing attacked him on his dangerous trek four feet from the kitchen. Red studied the front door for a few moments. Lying in wait for any predator to come bounding through, but nothing noteworthy happened.

The door simply behaved like a door should.

Still, refusing to put his weapon away, Red hooked a foot around its base and swung the noisy wood abruptly open. He barged through the opening, weapon raised. Heavy, red club poised up prepared to bring a vicious blow down, fully on the offensive.

No one was around to receive the attack.

Red glanced to the sides, but all the streets, the porch, and the trees were empty. No matter which way he looked; the coast was clear. He relaxed marginally, letting his weapon slip in his grasp as he spun around to go back inside. Maybe Pap was right. Maybe he _did_ need rest.

Maybe he hadn’t shut the–

He froze, hand hovering rigidly above the doorknob.

Perfectly placed in the center of the door; there was a familiar yellow note. It said:

 

Cute. : )

 

_The human._

That damn psychopath! Red ripped it off the door. He hurled back around. Eyes flying to double check all the places he already looked. Yet again, there was no one there. This time the human wasn’t behind him.

Fuck! This was the damn basement all over again. A vicious sneer on his fangs, he looked back down at the note.

It was mocking him.

What did that even mean? What was “cute”? _What the hell had they seen?_

The thin note seemed almost translucent in the midday light, he could tell there was more scrawling on the back of the horrible, little paper. He flipped it over where the message continued:

 

Let’s play a game.

Can you guess where I am?

 

There was a clear undeniable threat laced into the bright cheer of the note.

If he didn’t find them; they would find _him_.

Red viciously crumpled the note, cramming it into his pocket. Ignoring how his hand shook as he did so. An accompanying chill ran up his spine. The tingle spread through his marrow, bringing the numbness to this situation he desperately wanted to feel as he tried to remain calm.

He was being hunted.

He kept his eyes wearily tied to his surroundings as he tried to think.

They could be _literally anywhere_. They could even be _inside._ After all, the door had been open. Or were they lurking nearby for him to put his back to the trees again? He didn’t _want_ to find them, dammit! He wanted to lock them behind a metal door and forget about them forever.

Yet, if this child thought they could taunt him; _they were wrong_.

Sans was a goddamn sentry. He _knew_ how to find people in Snowdin.

He instinctually looked down to the snow piled on the porch. As most welcome mats were, the area was heavily trafficked. The snow was kicked up and worn down, but the fresher snow, slightly off the porch, had tracks. The morning tracks had been slightly obscured by the snowfall, but the recent tracks stood out. One track belonged to large feet, widely spaced apart. Someone with a long gait. The other footprints appeared in much more frequency. Someone much smaller.

Red had been carried here; those weren’t his.

What’s more, they were leading _away_ from the porch. Closely in line with the other tracks. Right. After. Papyrus.

Fuck.

Fuck it all.

Chara had come for their revenge. And like the quick learning little shit they were; last time Red had taught them how to play dirty.

They weren’t hunting him; they were hunting _Pap!_

He could audibly hear the _crack_ in his fragile mask of composure.

Red raced out into the snow after the footprints on his bad leg. A slight limp to his anxious pace.

Papyrus didn’t even know that the human was here! He hadn’t seen them since Sans had come crashing through the ceiling of his brother’s bedroom with a murderer in tow. He didn’t know the human had escaped! Had Red even told him that he’d locked them away in the first place? Did he know the human was still alive?

Agony panged his soul.

He didn’t think he did. Pap had no clue he was in danger right now! What was he going to do if Papyrus’ footprints just… vanished?

_What if the snow turned grey?_

Red picked up the pace. He had to get to him before that kid! Pulling on his magic, he flung himself through a shortcut at a full on sprint. The energy crackled and hissed in protest. A sharp pain splitting through his soul. Maybe he wasn’t in as great a condition today as he had thought.

He probably shouldn’t use magic.

So, he pushed it anyway.

_Crack._

He let the void take him as far as it could manage.

Red slammed into a slushy mix of wet stone and snow at the point between Waterfall and Snowdin. His soul screamed in pain, resisting his desperate need to be by Papyrus’ side. Pathetic! Was this only as far as he could go?

Red clutched his chest, panting, as he rolled over. His bones shrieked when he moved. He dropped his skull back to the ground to look at the dimly lit cavern beyond. Somber, blue glows lighting the pathway into the abyss. The normal chatter of echo flowers seemed distant, singing a hummed lullaby. Yet Red could only hear a stiffening silence.

_Pap!_

He found the strength to struggle to his feet, ignoring the objections his own body provided. If he was good enough to stand, he was good enough to walk. He held the growing pain in his chest down by cradling it with one arm. Panting white wisps of air through his teeth, Red spared a glance back at the distance he’d already covered.

The cottage seemed a distant speck, yet he hadn’t gone nearly as far as he needed to. White flurries danced down obscuring the landscape as far as the eye could see in their haze. A single trail cut through the snow into Waterfall. One path; with a wide gait.

Chara’s footprints were missing.

Ha! He’d beaten them here! He could race them to Papyrus. He could get there first! He could warn Pap. And then –his eager step slipped back across the slush –then, Pap would beg him to stay behind. He’d go fight Chara alone. Like last time, Red would watch him fight fiercely. And he’d watch him lose. Watch him _die_.

No matter what reality he was in; a level one wasn’t going to fend off a level fifteen.

Or he could do what he was supposed to do. He could go after Chara. He could head them off and stop them from ever reaching Pap in the first place. He could finish what he’d started. He could do what he always should have done –what _this_ Sans had done –and _protect_ Papyrus.

Red didn’t want Pap to hurt anyone. He liked him as he was. He _liked_ that this Papyrus never wanted to harm a thing. But he had also seen that Pap was capable of it. _If_ it was on his behalf.

Killing changed people. He had seen firsthand what happened to a Papyrus who was forced to murder. His fingers dug into his ruined leather coat. He may have failed his own brother, but this Papyrus wasn’t beyond sparing. He didn’t need to rely on Papyrus to keep him safe now. He wasn’t fragile anymore!

He didn’t die.

Red took one last look back towards the blue-lit path towards Papyrus. He firmly gripped his crimson weapon in his hand. If he could stand, he could fight. If he didn’t die, as long as he could get back up, no matter what their level difference may be; he could win.

And then, Pap would be safe. They could stay here together. And he’d figure out how to make him smile. _Really_ smile.

But that wasn’t going to happen if that kid got to him first.

His feet slid into a firm, low stance he’d been familiar with for years. Lots of monsters had thought that they could hunt him in the past. All of them had failed. He wasn’t as weak as they all thought he was! Even he could hunt.

He could kill.

He trudged off through the snow to intercept the butcher head on. The snowy, white haze obscured many suspicious forms in the distance. As he traced the trail back towards the cottage, those forms came into view, but not one revealed his prey. Instead, Chara’s footprints joined the fray.

Their steps turned left past the shed.

Red stood woodenly still, staring after the parting tracks in disbelief. He blinked, but Chara’s footprints didn’t magically turn to stalk Papyrus’. They really had gone left.

What game were they playing?

Weapon drawn, he methodically stalked the imprints left in the snow. They curved wide around the estate and into the woods behind the house. Red swatted away bushes and branches as he tracked, keeping a wary eye on all the trees. There were so many hiding spots here. So may loose ends. They could come from any direction. They could be behind any tree trunk. The footprints were infinitely harder to follow in the brush.

Eventually, he lost the trail.

Not because the brush became too thick to discern their footprints. But because there were _too many_ footprints to possibly distinguish a direction anymore!

 The trail had led him to a rather familiar clearing. The clearing where Papyrus and Chara had fought. Despite their battle being ages ago, the snow here was trampled, thrown into chaotic pathways and bunches that made no sense in the given context. In fact, it was so trodden, there appeared to be _less_ snow here than in the surrounding forest. You could practically see the cavern floor! It looked like a stampede had come through, spun several circles around the clearing and then vanished into thin air!

But a stampede couldn’t exist here.

Had all of this snow been kicked up by them? Were _all_ these tracks theirs? It covered the entire expanse! What the hell had they been doing? Just rolling around in the snow for the past week?

Whatever they had been doing; this was well played. There was no way he’d be able to find them here. The breadcrumb trail he’d been relying on; gone. He had no way of knowing which way they went and now he was out in the open. An infinite supply of hiding spots seemingly crowding in from every angle. Indeed, a clever move.

It was a trap.

Red was sick of playing. He’d been tracing lose ends and footsteps in the snow for almost an hour. He wasn’t about to go guessing which one of the billion trees they were prowling behind. Even from here, he knew it was useless to try to find a sensible pattern in the puzzle of trails beyond. He was sick of playing by their rules. If he was getting into a fight, it was going to be now.

“I get it, already!” Red yelled, swinging his crimson bone club over his shoulder, “’Yer great at hide and seek.” He walked into the clearing with a livid air of nonchalance, one hand in his pocket. He looked completely defenseless. Completely open –and he was.

 This was risky as fuck.

 They’d easily get a clear blow on him, but if it drew them out of hiding; he didn’t care.

“Don’t’cha wanna move onto our next game? I bet we’d both have a lot more fun,” He grinned, his pointed fangs smiling cruelly. He stopped in the middle of the clearing, feet planted wide.

He waited for a response. For a noise. For a rustle. For any indication of where they were lurking. Any little misstep that might give them away.

A few empty moments slipped by. Red could feel sweat bead on his brow; anticipation eating away at his soul. He felt like a sitting duck here, perfectly in the center of the clearing. A threat on all sides. The inevitable blow to his back was being drawn out a lot longer than it should be.

 Attack, already!

He expected a killing blow to land any moment.

“Ain’t ‘ya bored, yet?” He taunted the trees, “What do ‘ya, say, Chara? You can have the first stike an’ everythin’. But ‘ya better make it damn good or I ‘ m   g o n n a   h a v e   a   g r e a t   t i m e.”

There was suspiciously no response.

That was unusual. He was sure they wanted to play. They’d sent the invitation, after all. He doubted his intimidation scared them off. This was the kid who _laughed_ while being impaled to red hot pipes. This was their trap. He knew they were here, but where?

… _Did_ he know they were here? Why did he assume that?

Maybe they’d led him here, but then ran off. What if they’d slipped right past him?

Red circled the perimeter of the clearing, searching for a trail leading away from the scramble.

There weren’t any.

 There was only one obvious path, leading into the clearing. They couldn’t teleport like he could. They couldn’t just disappear! He’d been watching and he hadn’t seen anyone leave either. They _had_ to be here.

In his reckless impatience, he dared check all the nearby bushes. All the nearby trees.

Nothing.

They couldn’t just evaporate into thin air! Think, dammit! If there was only one path in and no path out, yet they weren’t here; what did that mean? Come to think of it; had he seen any footprints _approaching_ the house? There had only been one extra set of footprints, hadn’t there? One path…

It meant that they had gone out the same way they’d come in.

That little shit had walked backwards over their own footprints! They weren’t here at all! This _was_ a trap. A trap meant to waste his time!

He’d –He’d fucked up!

So, they _were_ with Papyrus?

He’d gone all high and mighty and left Papyrus to his doom; alone with the most dangerous thing in the Underground!

His hope sunk into a pit it couldn’t quite recover from; his hand involuntarily clutching the leather jacket over his soul.

_Crack._

He could still make it in time! He could –!

No, no. That was an assumption, too. Wasn’t it? Calm down. Think rationally! He’d seen the footprints. These baseless assumptions would get him nowhere. That’s what Chara wanted him to do. _Guess_ where they’d be. He needed logic now.

If their intention had been to lead him towards this trap; following the footprints backwards would lead him to them.

So, logically, they were in the house.

They’d been in the house the whole damn time.

Red’s gut flipped sickeningly again. His paranoia always coming back to haunt him. What if Pap came back to check on him and found Chara instead?

He had to go back!

Right now.

He swung his bone club off his back, drawing on his magic again. He ignored how it sparked in protest. Without a glance back, he stepped into the void. It tossed and turned him erratically. Much more wildly than normally. Afraid he’d loose his grip on his soul as he flung it through the darkness, he was forced to take the earliest exit he could manage. He was violently spit out the other end, scrambling for his footing.

_Clang._

The sound seemed to echo mockingly loud.

He had stumbled right into a pot. It was lying in the middle of the floor. In fact, there were a lot of things on the kitchen floor. He certainly hadn’t left those there. But at least he’d managed to land inside the house.

As he scanned the devastated kitchen, he noticed the eggs he’d left on the counter had been nicked. Many of the shelves and cabinets were hanging open, their contents discarded to the tile. Napkins, rags, spatulas; the floor was littered. He noticed the silverware drawer was hanging open as well. With a quick scan of the floor, he spotted the forks and spoons, but the cutlery was suspiciously missing.

He’d seen this pattern before.

Red carefully eased his foot out of the pot, but it was probably too late to truly be stealthy. Surely, they knew he was here. He quickstepped to the archway, flattening himself against the kitchen wall near the dining table. Several thick seconds ticked by, yet nobody came to inspect the noise.

Smart, little brat. It was so much easier to have the upper hand when your enemy came to you.

Certain no one was coming, Red peeked his head around the edge into the silent living room. The shadows seemed to hang thicker in the corners of the room. This time, the small creaks and moans of the wooden structure were all the more discomforting. Because this time, he knew it was no longer an empty house.

He advanced.

The living room had been torn to shreds. The pillows for the couch had been ripped off. One of them cut open with stuffing strewn about the room. Red leapt onto the remains of their sofa, vibrant red weapon poised to strike down, but no one was hiding behind it. He felt a chill run up his spine. He spun quickly to cover his back, but nothing pounced him.

Lots of the furniture had been shifted. The table by the front door outright overturned. Yet the cause of the destruction seemed to be missing from this room. The shadows hung thick in the corners of the space, but no lurking maniac moved within them. The living room was as empty as he had left it.

Red crossed in a wide breadth around the stairs as he made his way to the bathroom. He kept his eyes trained on the second floor, yet couldn’t see much from this vantage. Red took a steadying breath before he flung the door to the bathroom open. It, too, was empty. The only noticeable difference was that the laundry basket had been flipped. Their visitor wasn’t here either.

Chara was too smart for that. It wasn’t practical to hide in a narrow bathroom. As far as tactics went, having an elevation advantage was always in your favor. If Red were ambushing someone; he would hide beyond the banister. So it was with extreme caution that Red made his way to the stairs. It was here he found the missing cutlery; strewn along the steps.

Red kept his eyes down as he silently crept around each waiting knife. As his focus strayed to his feet, something silver flashed at the edge of his vision.

Red jumped back; ready to dodge.

 It was knife.

But an unmanned one.

One or two had been imbedded in the wall on the way up. As if Chara had sorted and discarded their loot on their way upstairs, testing their edge. It flimsily wobbled in the wood. Great. They’d found the sharpest knife. Good for them.

Red wouldn’t want to attack an unarmed child, now would he?

As he tried to still his pounding soul, it leapt again at a familiar noise.

A creak.

Followed by a hollow tap on wood.

It was the sound of a door clicking shut above him.

When he got high enough, he peeked into the upper hallway. No one was waiting to shove him back down the deathtrap. So, he cleared his way onto the second floor. If they had just shut a door, and they weren’t in the hallway that meant they were _inside_ one of these.

He carefully opened the first door to Sans’ room. But even after a thorough sweep, not only did he not find the killer there; he couldn’t even tell if they’d been in this room, either. It was already torn to shreds from their last visit.

That meant they were in Papyrus’ room.

Red scowled. Somehow he liked the idea of them being in that room the least. More so than the rest of the house; it felt like an invasion of privacy. That was their _bedroom._

Red stopped in front of the bedroom door. He squeezed the crimson club in his hand to reassure himself his weapon was still ready. That he was still ready to fight. He was.

He creaked open the last door.

This room had undergone a similar violent search much like the rest of the house. The closet door hand been flung open, all the mess that it had hidden from view and been re-distributed around the floor over Papyrus’ normal mess. Drawers from the dresser and nightstand had been completely removed from their shelf, turned up side-down and piled outside of the furniture. The stack of mattresses had been shifted, now tilting off to the side. But no culprit stood in the room. That meant –Red leapt inside. Slammed the door closed. And smashed his club into the vacant wall behind the door.

The house was empty.

From downstairs he heard a sudden, loud bang. Followed by a splurge of footsteps that knocked and rustled the items on the house’s floor.

Red spun to look back at the destruction of the room, chest heaving as he panted. If he hadn’t checked every damn crevice of this place, he’d worry he had overlooked them. But he had. Chara wasn’t in a single one. After all this, there was no way they’d be that noisy.

The kid wasn’t here.

His soul refused to stop thudding a mile a minute even though his mind was beginning to calm. Red left the bone lodged in the wall as he stumbled away from the door on stiff, shaky legs. Exhausted, he let the protests he’d been ignoring up until now finally catch up with him. His knees gave out. Slowly, he sunk to the floor, staring in disbelief at the bedroom door.

They hadn’t gone after Papyrus.

“Red?” he heard Papyrus’ familiar voice pitch in panic from somewhere downstairs.

Relief washed over him. They’d come here instead. Sure, they’d trashed the place and _what_? Stolen some eggs?! They could have them! Red didn’t care about the fucking _eggs._

_They hadn’t gone after Papyrus._

“RED?!” Pap bellowed.

“Heh.” Red wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. His vision blurred hot at the sound. “Heh heh heh!” That kid had sure sent him on a wild search! And for what? All because they were hungry?

Ridiculous!

“I’m– I’m up here, Pap!” He called down, choking down some emotion caught in his throat.

There weren’t any footsteps on the stairs before the bedroom door banged open; a tall, familiar figure contrasting the doorway. A bone drawn as a weapon. One furiously blazing orange eye scanned the room, before it rested on him. “Red!”

“Welcome back, Pap,” Red forced a huge grin up at him from the floor. He should feel bad about getting their rations stolen. He should feel bad about letting someone invade and trash their home. But was it bad that seeing Papyrus’ face just made him happy?

“are you okay?!” Pap dashed to his side, crouching down in front of the weary skeleton. He tugged Red close, one arm defensively securing around his shoulders as Pap scanned the room on high alert. “are they still here? what happened? are you hurt?”

“I’m ok. They ain’t here anymore.”

Pap didn’t relax much. He grabbed one of the small arms roughly, inspecting it. Red winced at the sudden violent treatment, but Pap seemed too frantic to notice.

Red couldn’t take his eyes off of Pap’s face. He’d never seen him quite this hysterical. His eye was blazing so badly it looked like he might set his entire skull on fire. His usual lax smile was drawn into a grim sneer that twitched with worry. Pap was looking him over, but his focus seemed far way. Dark thoughts clouding over his vision.

He checked his other arm, too. Roughly.

“Pap, I’m ok,” Red promised. He was ignored. The search for injuries continued. He had to fight his hands away from Papyrus’, “Hey, _hey_ ,” He called, but Papyrus didn’t hear him. He was lost to his own thoughts. Red finally managed to free his own hands long enough to catch Papyrus’ wandering ones.  The contact made Pap blink like he was seeing Red for the first time.

Red searched his eyes.

_“_ Are _you_ ok?” Red asked nervously.

Papyrus’ expression broke from stern to worried for a brief second. Words caught in his throat as thoughts warred across his face.

“yeah,” He finally responded, stone-faced, “i’m fine.” Red didn’t miss how his eyes guttered out. Red had spent so long bringing those orange lights back to life there was no way their absence would go unnoticed. Red watched nervously as Pap stood up. Out of his reach. He stormed to their bedroom door flinging it open, “are you sure they aren’t here? did you check everywhere?”

Red hobbled to his feet, repeating, “T-they ain’t here anymore.”

Papyrus sneered, whipping his head both directions down the hallway. Refusing to let go of his weapon, which was clutched severely in one hand. Bloodthirst radiated off him in waves. So much so that Red trailed a fair distance behind him out the door. Helplessly watching as a tall, intimidating figure stomped down the hallway.

Red had never seen him this mad. Words stuck in his throat. He outstretched a hand towards Papyrus’ back but he was afraid to grab him. Afraid to interrupt his rampage.

Papyrus kicked in the next door in the hall violently, barging into the room like he was ready for a fight. Of course, there weren’t any enemies for him to battle. He seethed in the middle of the room for a moment then angrily spun back out towards the stairs.

His mask of rage fell for a moment noticing a small white skull peek into the doorway after him, looking on timidly with big crimson eyes.

He faltered, but slowly, his mask hardened again. “wait here,” he demanded, as he passed Red at the door.

Red was afraid that if he left, if he just sat back and watched him go; he would never see him again.

This time his hand caught the familiar hoodie. “Pap! Where are ‘ya goin’?”

“i’m looking for them!” Pap stated, not slowing in the slightest as he stormed over to the stairs.

Refusing to let go, Red dug his hands into the vibrant orange hoodie. He planted his feet firmly into the floorboards, pulling the much larger form back, preventing them from going further. “I told ‘ya; they ain’t here!”

Pap spun back annoyed that he was being stopped. “THEN, WHERE ARE THEY?” He barked loudly.

Red flinched, but didn’t let go. Curling his hands into the familiar fabric, “What are ‘ya gonna do if ‘ya find ‘em?” He pressed, furrowing his brow, eyes falling to the side, “Kill ‘em?”

“yes!” He seethed.

Apparently, Pap’s ‘don’t hurt anything’ philosophy didn’t extend to murderous children.

Red grounded his feet, grit his teeth.

“No, yer not!” He snapped his eyes back to Papyrus’ stony mask, matching the livid stare he was being given.

Red didn’t have the right to judge.

This wasn’t even about morals. Pap wouldn’t be able to kill them. If he stormed out now and found them; it would be an instant death. Not that he could normally win a fight with Chara, but he was clearly irrational now –and that shortened his life by a fair percentage. Red didn’t like the odds.

Red yanked him back by his hoodie as far as he could, shoving Pap back towards the bedroom. “ _You_ stay here and calm down. _I’ll_ go look, ok?”

 Pap caught his shoulder as he turned away, “no!”

“Yes!” Red insisted, shrugging off his hand. He spun back towards the stairs, plodding obstinately away. Planning his moves. If Pap wanted the kid dead; he could do it. If he was fast, maybe he could find the kid now before their trails disappeared beneath the snow.

“no!” Pap yelled again. This time he grabbed Red around his middle, lifting him from the floor.

“Damnit, Pap!” Red thrashed in his arms, “Put me down!”

“ _hell no!”_ Pap carried the struggling monster into the bedroom, dodging flailing arms and kicks. He shouted over Red cussing up a storm in his hold, “why were you even here? you should have run away when the human came!” Pap kicked the bedroom door shut behind them, locking them in.

Red finally slipped out of the constricting hold. Whirling to glare up at his captor. “I ain’t runnin’ from a fight!”

“ _don’t_ fight them! i told you to stay away from the human!”

“’Ya can’t just run away from ‘em, Pap. They’re trying to kill you.”

“teleport out next time!”

“Do you want them dead or not?!”

“Red, they’d kill you in seconds!”

“They didn’t even come close!” Red roared. “Ain’t no way in hell was I gonna leave ‘em with _you_!”

“this is _my_ fight. you need to stay out of it!” Pap yelled.

 “ _Ha!”_ Red screamed the word more than outright laughed at him, “You think ‘ya can take ‘em? I got a knife in the chest that says differently, buddy!”

Papyrus collapsed in frustration onto the edge of the mattress. He shot a disapproving face Red’s way before he dropped his head back to his hands like this whole conversation made his head hurt.

That damnable silence settled between them.

Papyrus didn’t answer. He just sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He was so perfectly motionless, Red was certain this was the new position Papyrus would be permanently stuck in. Red paced around the room, angry now, too. They’d gone full circle. Papyrus didn’t even want to talk to him anymore and he was the last damn thing _to_ talk to in the entire world!

Red’s company really was worth shit.

It felt like a long time passed before he heard his voice again.

“what did you do with the human, Red?” Papyrus asked carefully, a heaviness to each word.

Red didn’t answer.

“did you fight them? did you injure them? what happened?”

Red didn’t want Pap to worry about this. He didn’t want him to run off on some suicidal revenge scheme after them. Unwilling to give any answers, he spat, “I killed ‘em.”

Papyrus dropped his head into his hands, frustrated. “i _know_ you didn’t. where are they?”

“I told ‘ya. Dead,” Red hissed, still steaming.

Red wasn’t lying to him out of any sort of malice. He wasn’t being difficult just to fuck with him. It was for his own good. Couldn’t he trust Red to keep him safe? Chasing his brother’s murderer was going to get him killed. Besides, the human was a force Red didn’t want Papyrus anywhere near.

Papyrus slammed his hand down on the mattress, drawing a loud noise. The outburst flung Red from his thoughts. Crimson pupils locking onto the seething skeleton.

“don’t. lie. to me. i know they’re alive, Red. you _didn’t_ kill them.” At those words, Papyrus looked so disappointed in him. A deathly sneer upon his mandible. A quiet cool rage boiling beneath the surface. Bloodthirst ready.

Red had an outburst of his own.

He couldn’t hold back his own voice, “WELL? Did _you_ wanna kill ‘em? Stab some little kid to death?” He was just so mad, the words wouldn’t stop. “Are you callin’ the shots now, _Boss_? You get to pick who lives and dies?”

 The sneer was wiped off of Papyrus’ mandible. A hard stare leveled Red’s way. “this is _not_ what that’s about. If they stay alive-“

“So ‘ya want ‘em dead, then?!” Red shouted, cutting him off. Rage boiling hot. He was sick of running around in circles with him like this. He threw his hands up in frustration. “FINE! You got it, Boss. They’re as good as dead.” He jabbed a thumb viciously into his chest, “I’LL KILL ‘EM FOR ‘YA!” 

And Papyrus looked absolutely horrified at the notion. “no…”

“No?” Red asked mockingly loud. “What do ‘ya mean ‘no’? You’ve wanted them dead this whole time, right! It’s written all over ‘yer face! Didn’t they dust everyone?!”

Papyrus face soured at that. Growing into something dark.

“Didn’t they kill _your brother?_ ” Red continued.

“yes,” it was just a whisper. A dangerous whisper. Set on a face contorted so painfully into a scowl it looked like it would crack.

“Don’t you want ‘em dead?!” Red raged, pressuring the other.

“yes!” Papyrus admitted loudly like the thought broke his soul. And why wouldn’t it? He was only level one. He’d never killed anything before –and he didn’t have to.

“I’LL KILL ‘EM FOR ‘YA, THEN!” Red concluded, outraged they had to run full circle to get here.

“no!” Papyrus’ hands shot out grabbing onto Red’s arms so he couldn’t go anywhere. His face was still contorted painfully, but not in the underlying rage that had twisted it before. This was something else. Something even more excruciating.

Red stared lost into Pap’s hurt face. His knees slumped onto the edge of the mattresses, allowing the other to draw him a margin closer. The fists were curled so tightly into his leather sleeves, yet his arms seemed so powerless to hold him here.

 “’Ya don’t want me to go?” Red ventured offended. “Do ‘ya think I’m useless or something?” Red knew he’d do _anything_ for this monster. If he said so, Red would find a way to fill any request.

Papyrus’ face twisted so agonizingly like he couldn’t even get out the words. He shook his head.

“Then, let me go,” Red said sternly. These arms couldn’t really hold him here, but, like so often in the past, he wasn’t going anywhere unless Papyrus let him.

Pap shook his head.

The hands were still clamped into his forearms, preventing him from leaving.

“What do ‘ya want from me?” He mumbled hopelessly. If he wanted something done, all Pap had to do was say it. Yet he clung onto Red’s sleeves, face hung and turned to the side. A worried expression staring hard at some distant thought, instead of meeting Red’s eyes.

Red sighed. “Pap, don’t get me wrong. I ain’t judgin’ you. I get it,” He pulled Pap in close, stroking Papyrus’ skull the same way Pap had always stroked his own. Hoping it would calm him down. “‘Yer not a bad person for wanting them dead. They deserve it!

“But listen ‘ta me.

“There’s no way you’d live if ‘ya fought ‘em. They’re level fifteen. You’re level one. Even if ‘ya wanted to get stronger, there’s nothin’ around fer ‘ya ‘ta kill. Even-“ Red swallowed, knowing Pap wouldn’t like this example, “–Even if I let ‘ya take the last blow on my soul before it shatters.” Papyrus’ hands dug painfully into his arms, but Red continued, “You _still_ wouldn’t be a high enough level to take that kid on. Experience doesn’t work like that. _Trust me_. I know you want revenge, but this is a shitty situation. Let me help, Pap! They won’t be able to kill me. Not even now; bandages ‘n all. I promise.”

Pap’s hands trembled into his sleeves.

“i wasn’t,” Pap’s voice failed and he had to try again, “i wasn’t keeping you around as _spare experience_!”

“I know, I know,” Red hushed soothingly, leaning into the large form as he petted his head. He nuzzled into his skull, “You were keepin’ me around for my cookin’ skills.”

Pap laughed brokenly, “hardly.”

Red leaned away a bit to look down, hoping to catch a glimpse of that smile he loved.

He missed it. Pap met his gaze. Looking up at him, piercing orange eyelights back in the sockets, “you know you’re more important than that, right?”

A pain seized his soul.

He couldn’t respond.

The hands pulled him in sharply instead.

Red fell into his lap. He didn’t have any time to process before a mouth was on his. Papyrus was pressing them together so forcefully, Red screwed his eyes shut.

“Pa-ah,” Talking was a poor move, as Papyrus took the opportunity to slip his tongue into his mouth. It ran along the back of his teeth, prodding in unexplored territory. Red was afraid to close his sharp fangs on the enthusiastic appendage and risk harming Papyrus. Which gave it ample time to explore. With enough coaxing, his own tongue formed. Papyrus eagerly met it. Lapping, licking, and sucking at the red ecto-flesh.

One large hand found the back of his skull, pulling his head in further, knocking their teeth inescapably together. Red flushed crimson at the attention, as an eager tongue continued to treat him. Papyrus’ other arm wrapped around his lower back, pressing the small, tense body into his. They were welded together. Red could hardly get a breath, let alone away.

And why would he want to? This felt great. He wanted to kiss Pap all damn day.

Pap trapped him so long, he grew comfortable with their closeness. Light-headed, Red readily relaxed into the strong grip as Papyrus continued to deepen their kiss, leaning the small skeleton back as he cradled his head to get a better angle. Red allowed him to do whatever he wanted. Until finally, the orange tongue pulled away.

Red saw where this was going. Papyrus didn’t know what he was getting himself into.

 “Pap,” Red heaved, breathless, “don’t do this.”

“why?” Pap spun them down to the mattress so Red was pinned under him, two elbows on either side of his head. Pap loomed in, hovering just a breadth above the smaller, showing no clear intention of stopping. “are you gonna stop me again?”

“Just warnin’ ‘ya,” Red corrected, tugging Pap down the rest of the way to meet an open mouth.

Red was hardly going to turn Papyrus down twice. He wanted this. He wanted this so badly. It was unfair for Pap to tease him for days with kisses and touches he shouldn’t have. Especially when he didn’t even know his real name! But if Red never told him; he’d never have to know. He could just be “Red” forever. He didn’t need his name back.

Pap fell into him. This time, Red was the one exploring Papyrus’ mouth. He wrapped his arms around Pap’s neck as he scraped their teeth together. His short, flat tongue ran along the orange one. A lazy, curious pace in no hurry to let this end. Red held Papyrus flush to him as their mouths slowly clacked together for several minutes, panting for brief moments of air when they could. Papyrus melted into him quickly, a heavy weight pinning him down, but Red didn’t mind. He loved the feel of his weight on him. The taste of his tongue on his. The smell of their sheets and the sound of his breath. They all drove him mad.

It wasn’t long before his magic responded. A glowing red bulge snuck its way into his pants, announcing his erection with little tact.

They were pressed too close together for Papyrus _not_ to have felt it form. He pulled slightly away from Red, still touching their foreheads together. He was panting, a tint of tangerine on his cheekbones. Half-lidded eyes stared into his sockets as he slipped a single finger up along the tent in Red’s pants. Red shuddered into his arms, out of sight of those fiery orange eyes. Nestling his skull in the crook of Pap’s neck.

“Nnn!” Pap’s finger swirled along his tip, rubbing the cloth of his pants down into the sensitive top. Then, he rubbed up and down his length with a single finger!

Pap chuckled into Red’s ear at the resulting shiver.

Fuck! He was teasing him.

Red nipped at Pap’s neck in retaliation, smirking into the bone when he lolled his head to the side, begging for more. Red grazed his fangs tauntingly against the white rivets, occasionally nibbling on his neck. Picking one vertebrae to wrap his mouth around; Red sucked.

“f-fuck.” Papyrus cussed, heat flaring to his bones. He eagerly pulled Red’s shorts down, but the way Pap was laying on him, they only fell to his knees.

Having failed once. Pap struggled to get a good angle to slip his shorts off, while Red deviously tried to distract him. He squeezed his arms tightly around the giant’s neck, refusing to let him up. When Pap leaned to the right, Red sucked on the vertebrae at the base of his neck, causing him to flinch back the other way. An orange blush on his cheekbones. When he tried to lean to the left, Red nipped his collarbone, then quickly lapped at the wound with a wet tongue. Pap whined in disappointment when he’d finally given up on the task, unable to find a way out of Red’s enticing reach.

Red snickered victoriously at the childish sound.

He withdrew his arms from Pap’s neck, finally freeing him. Holding his head between his smaller hands, he pushed Pap back with kisses until the taller skeleton was sitting up on the mattress. Red straddled him, leaning in for one long kiss as his arm reached back to pull the shorts the rest of the way off himself. Succeeding, he pulled their mouths away, hovering just out of Pap’s reach.

“ _Baby_ ~,” He teased, dangling the successfully removed shorts over the side of the bed, “That wasn’t so hard.”

“this is,” Pap smirked, gripping Red’s exposed erection in one hand. The fatty girth squished between his fingers.

“S-Shit,” Red shivered, involuntarily dropping the shorts over the side as they slipped through his grip. The little form flinched down from his haughty position back to the safety of Pap’s chest. His fingers dug into the wide shoulders like claws. “Not so tight, ‘ya brute.”

Pap marginally corrected his grip, his wandering thumb swirled a circle down roughly into the top. He began corkscrewing clumsily up along the red shaft from the base. It was still tight, but each quick twist had Red thoroughly distracted. He panted into the orange hoodie to get his bearings, leaving space between them for Papyrus’ strokes. Gradually, he sunk back down, sitting across a bulge in Papyrus’ lap.

He opened bleary eyes to look down at the long fingers twisting around him. Just beneath his own erection, at the base of his white pelvic bone, a large orange glow shone through the pants. Papyrus was getting hard. It was time for revenge.

Red rolled his hips against it between each stroke, spurring it on.

“nyh!” Papyrus moaned gently when Red bucked against him the first time. Red could feel his grip gradually weaken around him as his attention was pulled elsewhere. Red grinned a wide toothy smile, watching Papyrus’ face twitch in waning concentration. When he completely lost focus; Red took over. One arm thrown over Papyrus’ shoulder, he rode his hips down into the bulge. Shrugging off his tattered coat with his free arm. He pecked a kiss to Pap’s teeth, then switched shoulders to take the jacket all the way off, never slowing his insistent grind against his partner’s arousal.

As the coat fell away, Pap grabbed him by the back of his head, pulling him in for another sloppy kiss. The kiss didn’t have to be perfect for the heat set Red’s face aflame in crimson all over again. Their tongues twisted. He continued to rock down into the orange glow in Pap’s lap, until a large hand gripped his bouncing dick again. The following rough thrust caused Red to gasp into their kiss.

“Ahn! Fuck, Pap. Do ‘ya even know what ‘yer doin’?” Red slurred against his teeth.

Papyrus tilted Red’s head up so their eyes were looking at each other. A wandering thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “keeping you here?” He asked innocently.

Well, it was fucking working.

Red grabbed Pap’s shirt, pulling him as he leaned backwards. Pap fell on top of him on their mattresses, a hand out to either side of Red’s head, boxing him in. Papyrus smiled at him; an amused slanted quirk to his teeth. Red didn’t have time for his antics. He tugged the orange hoodie and the shirt below up to the top of his chest at the same time. “ _Off,_ ” Red growled his demand.

Papyrus immediately complied. Sitting up and ripping the upper garments over his head eagerly. He fell back to his position atop Red, naked to the waist. Half-lidded eyes smiling down at him with adoration.

Red blushed. “Don’t look at me like that,” He grumbled, turning his head to the side, suddenly feeling shy.

“like what?” Pap laughed, a smile in his tone as he nuzzled his skull into the side of Red’s head. Red felt hands slip under his shirt, tracing across his ribs. He shut his eyes, letting them explore. They found the few nooks and dents in his ribcage that still remained as Pap pecked short kisses into his cheek. He felt like he was drowning in affection when the long skeletal fingers brushed over the ribs above his soul. Then, glanced down along the long, harsh gash across his chest. The one scar he was actually proud of.

Gods. His face was burning. He couldn’t wait. He wanted him _now_.

He squirmed impatiently, “P-Pap.”

“hmm?” Pap hummed.

“The s-shorts, too.” He stuttered, “Take ‘em off.”

“mmkay,” Pap purred, affection weighing thick in his voice as he glanced his teeth along one of Red’s round, rosily burning cheeks. As Pap pulled away to comply, Red took the opportunity to rid himself of his last garment as well, tugging it over his head.

Pap finished kicking the shorts off his legs the same time Red escaped the shirt. Pap fell back over him where crimson irises hungrily drank him in. Pap was gorgeous. Every spotlessly white bone he had was on full display. A radiant orange light glowing from within his ribcage. Red would have had the mind to be self-conscious if he wasn’t so damn obsessed with the person in front of him right now.

And he was _obsessed._

Papyrus wasn’t prepared for the assault Red bombarded him with.

First, Red wrapped a leg around his spine, yanking his pelvis down flush with his own.

“sh–”

He rocked his hips, rubbing his thick, crimson member along Pap’s long, orange shaft. Spreading faint, wet kneading sounds throughout the room.

“mm!”

He dropped a hand to Pap’s iliac crest to steady that motion. Controlling it, so their dicks were always flush, twitching against each other. He curled the fingers of his other hand around Pap’s spine, pulling him down so his mouth had access to those pristine bones.

He bit the first rib he came in contact with.

“–ah!” Pap flinched.

Then, lapped his tongue against the sensitive spot. Before long he was sucking on the delicate bone. Luring Pap into a false sense of comfort before he moved on to test his fangs against the next rib. Every little moan he could draw out, egging him on. Hips spurring eagerly. That is, until Pap got wise and shifted his head down to Red’s level instead. Removing his obsession from reach.

His prey’s whole face was flushed a brilliant tangerine. Beneath heavily-lidded sockets two piercing eyes were staring back at him in disapproval. “stop biting me,” Pap pouted seriously, nipping his dull teeth against Red’s fangs, mimicking a biting motion.

It was about the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

Red was so giddy he thought he’d start laughing. Grin huge, he nipped back against Papyrus’ teeth playfully. He couldn’t keep his hands off him! “You started this,” he reminded. He pulled Pap’s hips in suddenly as he continued to grind their erections together in a soggy display.

“nmh!” He felt the shudder run through this prey. Pap tried to turn his head as lust took his face, but Red wanted to watch. He forced his head still with a hand at the base of his skull. Pap couldn’t hide from him.

He watched eagerly as Pap’s orange eyelights glazed over. Then, squeeze shut as a shiver rocked him. His face brightening in color as his mouth twitched needily, holding back a moan. He looked so blasted _consumed_ with lust. With him.

Red snickered deviously, “Didn’t I warn ‘ya?”

Pap panted, recovering himself.

“don’t get _cock_ y,” Pap teased, slipping out of Red’s grip. He sat back, grabbing Red’s legs on the way. He spread them apart, rubbing his long shaft against Red’s twice more, before he lined his vibrant erection up lower. Rubbing against the small puckered hole towards the back of his pelvic inlet.

He should have just dove in. Red didn’t want to have to wait in anticipation. But, of course, he stopped. Papyrus looked back down at him, almost as if he were waiting for permission.

Damn his courtesy!

Did he want him to say it?

Out loud?

Crimson flooded Red’s face. He fell back to the mattress, one arm draped over his sockets, the other hand digging into the sheet. He grit his teeth. He was ready. He wanted Papyrus so, so much, but he couldn’t form that into words. How could he ask him for that?

Wordlessly, he shook his head vigorously in approval.

Pap pushed his way inside, stretching the magic of the taut asshole. Pressing ever in. Red gasped as it forcibly sucked Papyrus in, accepting the new pressure buried between his thighs. The invasion stopped for a brief second as Pap’s hands ran up his femurs. He firmly grabbed onto Red’s nicked iliac crests, using the hips to shove himself even further within the small skeleton. Red writhed beneath him. He’d forgotten how goddamn long Papyrus was.

“nn! - _Uuhn_.” He gagged on air, gripping the sheets, as Papyrus buried himself _deep_.

Red could feel him inside. Throbbing. Burning. He trashed. He tensed at every little twitch he felt within him. A wandering thumb rubbed along his iliac crest, trying to relax him.

“hey, hey,” Papyrus’ soothing voice purred contentedly, calling Red’s quickly fogging mind back to him. Red felt him lean forward, the length buried in him tilting.

“Nn!” Red flinched, overly sensitive to his every little move.

Pap chuckled low. A large hand grabbed the arm thrown over Red’s sockets, gently tugging it away. “you don’t get to hide your face,” he cooed affectionately, “that’s not fair.”

Long fingers wove through his, holding his hand off to the side. Red panted, chest heaving as he tried to regain some semblance of composure. He felt like all his magic was either at his crotch or blurring through his head. His skull dyed the accompanying bright hue. He turned, blinking lust-lidded eyes up at Papyrus. Crimson irises glazed.

Papyrus’ face was still blushing furiously. His piercing orange eyes roamed over the panting skeleton beneath him. Unable to stay away, he leaned in smirking. The smaller tensed for the movement, relaxing when their mouths met. He nipped tauntingly against Red’s fangs. Always teasing him! Disappointed he wasn’t getting a real kiss, Red bit back multiple times, trying to catch his mouth before he pulled away.

Pap complied, sliding his tongue between Red’s teeth. Tracing the inside of the bone and playing with his tongue. Red ate the attention up, desperately kissing him back. One fist still twisted into the fabric of the sheet below as he tried to ground himself. Not even this much of Papyrus was enough, though. He wanted more!

He wrapped his legs around the lower half of Pap’s spine, pushing them together. Nudging his hips into the glowing orange erection.

Pap moaned into his mouth. He couldn’t take it anymore either.

Pap pulled back, a flushed lusty expression on his tangerine skull. His hand fell to Red’s begging hips.

He thrusted once.

Red rocked back on the sheets, fangs parting in a contented sigh.

He thrusted again. Hips rocking in and out. Red secured his leg around that perfect pelvic bone nestled between his legs. Rubbing himself into the heat.

“Paps!”

He thrusted a third time. The member hitting home. The length buried in him rubbed at just the right angle, “AH!”

The little skeleton jumped. Pleasure wracking all the way up his bones. Red’s hips bucked into the air, grinding against the other. Hungry for friction. Eager to meet him. Swallowing the entire length whole.

Big hands clawed into his sides as Papyrus caught his pelvis before it could find the mattress again. He knew he’d found a good spot. So, he kept the angle. Large hands grasped at Red’s iliac crests, hovering his pelvis off the sheets. He pulled out and Red almost whimpered as he left him. It found its way in again, faster.

“Ahn-!” Red tried to bite off the moan, hands curling desperately into the mattress. Spine arching.

He didn’t have to wait long before another thrust rocked him.

He grit his teeth. Allowing his hold on the sheets to ground him through the motion.

Another. Deeper. This one; hot and consuming.

“N-!” Red’s grip on the sheet faltered. He lost his edge as his legs slipped from Papyrus’ spine. He needed the friction. He tried to –

Hands on his hips yanked him in. Another thrust. Sudden and imposing.

Papyrus was _trying_ to get him to cry out. The bastard.

He slammed in again. That pelvic bone pressed flush against his.

Red wouldn’t give in. He tensed against it. Squeezed the dick within him tightly with his magic, forcing it to stay, but it was so wet, it easily slipped past his sides. Out again. He tried to ground himself. He was wound so tight his toes curled. His legs writhed in the air, searching to steady himself, but Papyrus had his pelvis bone lifted off the bed. Red’s legs trapped out to the side. He was wide open.

Large hand’s dug into his pelvis. Paps slid him down his slick length again. The member pulsing harshly as his entrance squeezed around it. It reached deeper inside him.

“Mnah! P-Paps!” He thrashed. This was too much.

Paps smirked. He invited himself in again. The member filling up the space between them. Warmly nestled far within his magic.

“nah! –AH!”

Again. He could feel Pap’s whole body heave with a breathy sigh, shuttering inside him. Red couldn’t keep his voice back. A slew of moans broke from his teeth. Each thrust drawing forth a reward.

“P-Pah-AH!”

“Mmn.”

“nNah! Ah!”

““A- _AHH! Ahhn._ ”

He could tell Papyrus reveled in them. Lapped them up. He set the pace. Constant. Insistent. He kept them up. Even when his hands slipped away from Red’s pelvis. The larger skeleton leaned over the other, hips working furiously. Red felt his lover’s hands pull his away from the sheet, fingers laced through his own. He must’ve shut his eyes at some point. Paps pulled his arms above his head. The gentle motion contrast to the vigorous attention he was receiving elsewhere.

“Nnmm. Ahh!” He cried, still rolling with the blows below, too weak to fend them off.

He felt Papyrus nuzzle his skull into his. Red bit off his voice. He didn’t want to moan into Pap’s ear. That would be humiliating. Pap would never let him live it down. The cheeky bastard. He whimpered through a few more plunges.

Papyrus clinked their teeth together. A hot tongue traced his fangs. He parted his mouth, allowing it entry. It danced with his own. One final, harsh, thrust came. Red felt Papyrus release within him. He felt the warmth fill his insides.

“Nnhh -AAHHhhn,” He screamed into Papyrus’ kiss. His hips wiggled hungrily, full of semen. He felt it spill down his bone.

He felt Pap slowly pull himself out, sliding against his sides. He was wet. Sticky. Red shuddered in his arms. His own member twitching insatiably.

He wasn’t done yet, he felt a hand curl around his cock. Ah, Hell. A slender hand rubbed roughly up the length of his throbbing, erect shaft. Twisting as it jerked in quick, short bursts. Red’s drained hands fell to Pap’s arms, joining the steady thrusts Pap was treating him to.

“Ahn! Pap! Wai-Mmmn,“ He moaned off his complaint as he got lost in the motions.

His hips involuntarily bucked along to the movements; more honest than himself. At this rate, he was going to-

Pap tapped his forehead to Red’s. “finish with me,” He begged in a raspy voice.

Near delirious, Red opened his eyes. Pap’s fiery orange iris’ were staring intently into his. They were panting together. He shuddered, spilling cum all over himself and the bed.

Pap helped him ride out his climax. Milking his red shaft with a strong hand, until his shuddering finally stopped.

Breathless, they collapsed together to the mattress. Pap crushing Red below him. Even spent, he was still pecking kisses into Red’s ruby skull no matter which way he turned his face to escape him.

“Heh. eheheheheh,” Red laughed giddily, tangled in the other. “’Ya can stop, already!”

“mmm,” Pap hummed drowsily, insistently clanking his teeth into the side of Red’s skull. “round two,” He mumbled distractedly.

Red barked a laugh, grin huge, “ _Hell no!”_ He was completely exhausted. He could feel every bit of him weighing down –and not just because Pap was lying on him. “I don’t even think I can move anymore.” He tried to lift his arm. It felt limp. Heavy. With what little strength he had, he pinched Pap’s chin, guiding his mouth back to his. “Who said ‘ya could just pick me up and go to town? _Huh?_ ” He growled affectionately against Papyrus’ teeth.

Pap smirked into his fangs, letting himself be drawn in for a kiss. It was quick and sweet. Not like the desperate ones they’d shared earlier. Neither of them had the energy for that kind of demanding passion now. Pap nuzzled their skulls together lazily, leaning heavily into the small form under him. Gradually sinking down. Until he completely collapsed into the stocky skeleton, snoozing.

Red nestled his head into the crook of his neck. “What’d’ya mean round two?” He teased the sleeping skeleton in a whisper, “’Yer more tired than I am!”

Red didn’t have the strength to push Papyrus off, so he dragged them back across the bed until Papyrus’ long legs weren’t hanging over the side. Then, he wrapped them both in the sheets, resting two tired arms around Papyrus in a hug. He didn’t mind that he was being crushed beneath larger form. He loved the feel of his weight against him and he smell of their sheets.

It was warm and comfortable.

Sleepily, he stroked the slumbering bones in his arms for a long while. The motion was relaxing even as the person doing it. He could do this forever. But, slowly, he nodded off. Eyes blinking against the blurring darkness. A lullaby of steady breaths in his arms, lulling his own eyes closed.

And when he finally did fall asleep;

_He dreamt of a human._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter:  
> Chara has equipped the knife.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> THE OFFICIAL APOLOGY/EXCUSE THREAD
> 
> H-Hiiiiii.
> 
> You may have noticed I went missing for a “little” while. The truth is; I had a really hard time writing this chapter. Some of you may know that this story is pre-planned. With that knowledge, before even writing it, I knew this chapter was really important. I wanted to do right by it. I nit-picked every little thing I wrote and just couldn’t seem to get this chapter down the way I wanted. When a lot of time had slipped by; I panicked. I didn’t want to admit I was having trouble. I got scared. I was afraid to respond to any of the wonderfully excited comments with, “I deleted chapter 9 for the fourth time!” Especially when the chapter was already extremely late.
> 
> So, I stopped responding. You know. Like a coward.
> 
> I wanted to have good news!
> 
> But writing the chapter alone in my own little bubble didn’t do me any good. It wasn’t any easier –quite the opposite! I struggled to get even a few paragraphs down before I’d end up deleting them all again. I thought maybe I just needed a little break. Get my mind off of it, ya’know? Then, come back. One day turned into two turned into… a month…
> 
> That’s when you came in.
> 
> Thank you so much for leaving a comment or a kudos or just a poke! -Despite complete radio silence from me. You reminded me why I wanted to share this story with you! I love this story! And I don’t want to get too mushy and emotional on the internet and all, but I fuckin’ love you!
> 
> And I’m sorry.
> 
> I’m really disappointed in how I handled the whole situation. I should never have ignored you. It really was the stupidest thing I could have done. From the start of the story, I wanted you to feel welcome to ask me stuff and question when the next chapter was coming out. I want to talk to you! That offer still stands, of course, if I haven’t scared you off by being a complete asshat!
> 
> I know it’s needy of me to ask; but please forgive me. The truth is; I need people like you who will come knocking on my door even when I’m trying to shut the world out. This chapter would have never come out without your help! So, Thank you!
> 
> TL;DR
> 
> Rescue squad; you ‘da best! The updates will resume!
> 
>  
> 
> XOXO
> 
> I know you probably don’t want a kiss and a hug from a stranger; but ‘yer fuckin’ gettin’ one! >:D  
> ((((~￣³￣)~ ･･･Σ(ﾟдﾟ;;ﾉ


	10. Arc Two: Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  CHANGE LOG: Minor updates to all of the chapters! (That really happened this time! Including chapter 9!)  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> Mandatory Recap:  
> Red and Pap played in the sheets while a murderer lurked nearby.  
> Priorities.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

_There was a sickening crack._

_Panic in his soul._

_A silver edge blazing against the darkness._

_Beep_

_The door swung open. Sans all but fell through the doorway. He sunk to the floor on the backside of the wall. A figure backed into the doorway slowly, their hands slashing out at unseen foes. The door whished shut behind them. Ominously flickering lights rattled on inside the elevator._

_They turned to face him._

_It was just a child. A human child. With a mat of messy brown hair and bald, fleshy skin. A dark cloak thrown over their shoulders. The silver edge of a knife firmly grasped in their hand._

_They didn’t look happy._

_Sans flinched as the human knelt down beside him. “Are you okay?”_

_He huddled into himself, glaring at the kid. He was hurt all over. And if the searing pain in his thigh was any indication, he’d snapped his femur._

_One hit point. He wasn’t going to hold._

_Well. He’d wanted it. Really, it was an atrocity he’d lived as long as he had. At least it could be done with. This could finally be over._

_Did he want it to be over?_

_He could feel the bone start to crumble around the slash in his leg._

_It wasn’t a choice._

_For someone like him; this was inevitable. He’d been ready for this. He knew this was coming. Is that why the sensation of his bone crumbling away felt so familiar? Why the mere thought of dying was so welcoming it felt like home? Why having someone by his side as he passed didn’t bother him in the slightest? Was_ that _why the child next to him felt so_ damn _nostalgic?_

_“W-who are you, kid?” Sans asked._

_The child looked forlorn, yet, without missing a beat, they replied, “Hopefully, a memory this time.”_

_What memory? He wouldn’t last._

_He could tell his dusting wasn’t going to be as quick and painless as the other monsters’. No. His would be slow and painful. He let his eyes flicker out. He didn’t’ want to see his hands disintegrate anyway. He let the world fade. He wanted it to fade, but the image of Papyrus walking away in the snow was burned into his mind._

_“Sans?” A little hand dug firmly into his coat sleeve. “Sans…” and the calm and collected voice broke for a second, “stay with me. Please don’t die.” But the plea couldn’t stop his leg from shriveling into dust. Begging couldn’t stop the world from fading into an uncomfortable darkness._

_“Sans the Skeleton. Don’t die on me, yet. We’re…” The voice failed, surrendering against a stiffening silence._

_Sans wasn’t answering anymore._

_They tried again. Correcting their voice to sound much more hopeful than before. This time; they whispered sweetly to him, “We’re so close. If you just hang on, you might see the_ sun _. O-or the King’s family could be alive and the Underground would be safe again. Or you could have more than one,” they swallowed down regrets, “one measly hit point.”_

_“Frisk…” A squeaky voice piqued solemnly into the silence. “He’s going to turn to dust now. Let’s go…”_

_“We were so close.” That sweet, breaking voice begged, “Don’t give up now. Please!”_

_…_

_A sob hitched in their throat, “Come on, Lazybones. Don’t make me drag you!”_

_Whatever they were doing…_

_It hurt. He could feel grains of himself falling agonizingly apart. Every fragment splitting away from his body as it fell away like specks of sand in an hourglass. As he started to break down. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t react. He was at their mercy._

_“!!!”_

_“Frisk, put him down! You’re just going to make him fall apart faster!”_

_Frisk seemed to ignore the squeaky voice, focusing their efforts on him. Whispering encouragements to him in their soft, sweet voice “Come on, Sans. Hold yourself together. We might not get this chance again. Don’t fall apart now.”_

_They spoke as if he had a choice._

_Maybe their reassurances_ were _working. The pain hardly bothered him now. In fact, he couldn’t feel much of anything anymore. He could only hear. A frequent_ tap, tap, tap, _of shoes on tile echoed below him and a stream of soft, endless encouragements laced their way into the darkness._

_“What are you doing?” The squeak whined._

_“Plan B,” A steady calm had returned to their flat tone._

_“We didn’t have a plan B! Remember?!” It continued by mocking their voice, “’This is all or nothing. Do or die.’ –And he just_ died.”

_“This is not over yet,” They replied simply._

_“He’s not getting back up. He’s fallen down!” They stressed._

_“Good. This only works on monsters who have fallen down.”_

_“WHAT?!” It squeaked, frustrated and confused._

_“Flowey, go grab me a syringe from the next room. Quickly.”_

_At the other’s absence, the soft voice turned their attention back to him, worried yet optimistic, “This time, you survived so long without my help.” They sounded almost proud? “I promise; I’m not giving up on you. No matter what happens. So, hold on. Ok?”_

_He could give no response. But, perhaps, they hadn’t waited for one. He could hear metal. The sounds of switches frantically being flipped. A power roared to life. The buzzing whirred through the darkness with a hollow echo. A pulsing beat that heightened to a crescendo. Long before the syringe was retrieved, the machine had started._

_His soul was pounding nervously._

_The crescendo peaked to a thunderous boom._

_Sans couldn’t move. He couldn’t flinch. He was at their mercy. He braced himself for–_

_“AA–“_

_The sound of a child screaming was drowned out beneath the violent hum of machinery. Their agony pitched through the air._

_But even though Sans hadn’t been the intended target; he wasn’t fine. He wasn’t ok. The sound shrieked through his soul. Splintered his mind. He didn’t want to hear this terror! Make it stop!_

_The machine was powered off quickly, but clearly not quickly enough. The sound of choking gasps as someone tried to recover, sputtered through the room._

_With the shrieking gone; Sans began to calm. He relaxed gradually. To his fading mind, the voices sounded so far away. A distant problem. A distant thought._

_“Frisk? Frisk!” Flowey screeched in panic, but the sound was muffled to Sans’ ringing ears._

_“Turn,” A small voice gasped feebly, yet commanded, “Turn it back on.”_

_“But–“_

_“_ Please _, Flowey,” They took a shaky breath. “He needs determination. We have to extract it.”_

_He could tell from the tone alone that the flower was wincing. “Surely, we can find some other determination that’s already extracted?”_

_“No,” Frisk sucked in a sharp, pained breath. “We don’t know what the doctor might’ve done to it.” They sounded so weak._

_Sans’ mind was foggy. Hazy. They were worrying for no reason. He was comfortable as he was._

_“B-Besides. Fresh is better, right?” They asked hopefully._

_“That applies to_ food.”

_“Maybe… maybe it’s like food? I, uh, I don’t actually know.”_

_“You don’t?! Frisk, this is a terrible idea!”_

_“Flowey, he’ll_ die _without it.”_

_He could go to sleep right now._

_“Then, let’s try again!”_

_“He’ll_ die, _” they insisted._ “ _Over and over and over. Sans has_ never _lived longer than a few weeks before. He…,” They swallowed down pain, muttering, “he barely ever makes it that long. We could_ never _get this chance again.”_

_Flowey was unable to deter that quiet, steadfast voice._

_Sound was starting to fade, too. He wanted it all to fade away. He was tired. He was ready to sleep._

_“Please,” That sweet, frail voice begged in the distance._

_Hesitation._

_Reluctantly, the power roared back on. Again, the buzzing whirred through the darkness with a hollow echo. Again, the pulsing beat heightened to a thunderous crescendo. Again, the deafening purr of machinery was joined by a child’s shrill scream._

_The two sang together for uncomfortably long. Rupturing any hope of rest Sans might have had. It was the sound of nightmares._

_Shit! His head was killing him. He couldn’t even think. Where was he anymore?_ When _was he?_

_After far too long, the machine powered down noisily. In the aftermath, the now coherent whimpers writhed in anguish. Hastily attempting to collect themselves._

_“F-Frisk,” The squeak stuttered terrified, “Are you alright?”_

“ _Yeah,” The voice panted weakly, faking a convincing calm. Somehow they’d survived. “Ne-never better.” They just_ breathed _for a few moments. Loudly. Recovering what air they’d lost. And they’d lost quite a bit._

_He seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. The lack of air made every second that ticked by blur together. Time should just stop. Spare him and end, already!_

_“How’s he holding up?” Their drained voice finally asked, still gulping down air._

_Flowey sounded reluctant to reveal that information, “…Not good?”_

_“Give me the syringe.”_

_“No!” It squeaked disobediently. “You’re,” The flower’s timid voice seemed to wilt. “You’re doing something bad again. Aren’t you?”_

_A dry chuckle echoed around the room. “Yeah,” they panted, not even trying to hide it, “Yeah, I am.”_

_“Do you even know if this is going to work?”_

_“If we fail, we’ll just try again, right?” They spun his words back on him sardonically. But the humor was gone._

_Again; the squeak was unable to deter them. Footsteps echoed across the tile. Growing louder as they approached._

_“Sans the Skeleton,” The soft voice sounded a lot closer. “I just need you to hang on for a little while longer. Ok?”_

_A small prick, and then pain._

_Horrible pain._

_It shot through him like a wildfire laced with acid, but smothered him like sulfur. The disease spreading throughout his bones. There’s something cold beneath him and he thrashes against its surface. He realizes there’s something horribly wrong. Something missing._

Pieces of him are missing.

_He couldn’t see, but he could_ hear _himself screaming._

“AAAAAAUUUUGGGGHHHH! AAGHH! AHH! AUUUUUGGHHHH! –!”

He couldn’t see! He could _not_ see. Where was he? Did he even exist anymore?

Sans screamed into the void. He was being thrown violently this way and that. Shaken and spun not of his own accord. His head was throbbing. His mind was splitting. It was on fire!

“Wake up!”

“AH! AHH! GH! HNH!”

“Damn it, Sans!” A blow crashed into the side of his head.

He felt that. He could feel pain.

The blinding pain in his head ebbed away to a dull burn as the painful ache in his cheek grew by miles. He stopped screaming, blinking watery, crimson eyes open. The afternoon light stung his vision.

So, he _could_ see.

He could see two angry eyes glaring into his own.

Gloved hands relaxed their grip on Sans’ red sweater, no longer shaking him. The black-clad figure drew away now that he seemed to have calmed down a bit, allowing the little skeleton to sink back to the mattress. Sans absently cradled his cheek. Mind foggy, he blinked up at the person towering over his bed.

“Screaming again,” Boss _tsk_ ed in disapproval.

He’d woken up screaming again? No wonder. That dream had really fucked him up! His head was _still_ on fire. He thought he’d gone blind. And numb and… Actually he could only remember blackness.

What _exactly_ had he been dreaming about again? Had it been anything at all?

Dazed eyes strayed to the familiar room. He was sitting on a single, frameless mattress that sat on the floor. The cushioning was lumpy and rather uncomfortable. The bed’s dirty sheet was balled up messily around his waist. There were clothes strewn about the floor of his room in small disorderly piles. Unlike the darkness from last night, a bluish hue of light bathed the floor from the frozen winter window in a somber glow.

It was his room. He vaguely remembered falling asleep here.

But something was off. Something wasn’t how he’d left it.

Sans furrowed his brow. Scowling at the room suspiciously. Slowly, his hand dropped from his aching cheek.

His room was cleaner than he’d left it; wasn’t it?

 “Why even bother sleeping so much if you can’t even dream of something good?” Boss spat unhappily.

Sans was still scowling, scanning the suspicious room wearily. Distrusting everything he saw until his eyes had to pass across that towering black form to get to the other side. His eyes caught there instead.

Boss’ black clad armor was scuffed. It was old, after all. It had seen many fights, but this seemed a bit excessive. There were countless dings and scratches in his usually spotless armor. He often took the time to polish and buff his uniform, so why was it so dirty? Were those recent? His eyelights trailed down the iconic red cape that billowed off the pointed shoulders to mid-thigh, but there, towards the top of his left leg, his thick leather pants were frayed. Cut wide open down to the bone. Occasionally a little trickle of white grain floated down to the floorboards.

His brow pinched in concern. “B-Boss,” Sans glanced up at his baby brother with big, red eyes, “Are ‘ya hurt?”

Boss frowned harder. The grimace on his face pulling taut. His shadowy eyes narrowing into slits. He took a step back, obscuring the leg behind a red cape. “Hardly,” He stated in a stone-laced tone.

So, he was going to hide it?

 “’Hardly’?” Sans asked mockingly loud. Did he think he was dumb? “That ain’t just a ‘lil scratch! Lemme see!” He threw back the covers, hopping to his feet. He tried to circle around Boss who simply turned to keep him away.

As he paced around Boss, he realized how battle-worn he was. His red eyelights flew everywhere, noting all recent chips and dents to his brother’s bone. The small cuts and damage on his usually pristine apparel. And that obviously sliced leg he could barely get a glimpse of! If he didn’t know better, he’d say Boss had a slight limp as he turned, favoring the uncut femur.

“Are those from weapons or claws?” The little skeleton pressed, pacing predatory circles around the other. He had definitely been in a battle. A big one. Not some little scuffle.

Boss continued to turn away from him, always keeping himself so he was facing towards Sans. He fixed a hard look at his older sibling. “You are overreacting, brother.”

Yet _still_ he kept his leg hidden with the cape. Overreacting his a–

“What’s ‘yer HP at?”

Annoyance, mixed with mock amusement; “Are you half-asleep? I have no obligation to–“

“Who hurt ‘ya?!”

Finally, a large hand caught his face, holding him at bay. “It is _nothing_ ,” the tall skeleton insisted coolly, an icy warning in the tone. He felt a pressure squeeze temptingly around his skull. It might be wise not to move.

 Good judgement be damned! That protective itch he always had towards Boss was in full drive today.

“It ain’t nothin’!” Sans roared back, fingers obscuring his vision as he pressed himself stubbornly, almost daringly, into the talons. “There’s dust on the floor!” He snarled into the glove. Seeing he’d get no closer until the obstruction was removed, Sans uselessly tried to tug away the hand clasped around his head.

Boss was having no more of this.

“Why are you even here?” He hissed irritated, tone dropping to a dangerous volume. Even injured, he easily flung the persistent skeleton away from him. Sans was dislodged almost effortlessly, crashing back to the mattress. Thankfully his landing was soft, if not lumpy. “Shouldn’t you be at your post? I should have known I’d find you here _sleeping_.”

Sans batted away the sheets with a fierce growl. In the heat of anger, the accusation fell out of his mouth without any real thought.

“Weren’t ‘ya sleeping here, _too_?” He barked, eyes locking accusingly on his brother’s.

Boss’ red eyes snapped down to Sans’ disapprovingly. He crossed his arms regally, as if he were above such a preposterous notion. The cool demeanor amplifying a terrifying calm.

It was wrong.

Under that dangerous scrutiny Sans’ soul stopped in his chest. What a dumb thing to say! Of course Boss wasn’t sleeping here! He _was_ above such a preposterous notion. What the fuck had Sans been thinking?

Sweat beaded on his brow as he tried to get his brain working correctly again. Or functioning at all. His body seemed to freeze up without something sane to operate it.

Boss leaned in, looming over him. His shadow creeping ominously over the small, rigid form. “Unlike _someone,”_ He spat the word distastefully, “I didn’t come here to sleep. I went to work. Tell me, brother, do you even _want_ a real job?”

“Y-“ The stutter hitched in his throat, “-Yes!”

Boss grabbed him by the shirt and threw him off the bed towards the door. Demanding venomously, “Then, don’t miss your shift!”

Sans teetered, catching his hands roughly on the door to save his footing.

Slowly, his hands balled into tiny fists against the wood. _Boss was throwing him away._

Why was this so wrong? The violent treatment. The dangerous calm. Why did everything feel so–

He felt that dangerous, violent anger burning a hole through his back every second he didn’t leave for his shift as ordered. Timidly, he peeked red eyes back over his shoulder to look at Boss. His baby brother stood sternly in the middle of his room, an intense, but not unusual, scowl souring his face.

He felt a pang deep in his soul. Some lost hope that Boss would be happier to see him as it died away, but _why?_ That look was normal. This was usual for them. He knew that. But for as much as it felt wrong…

Sans’ disappointed scowl fell to the injured leg Boss was standing on. ‘ _Nothing_ ’ his ass.

 “F-first aid kit’s on the left in the closet,” He muttered jadedly, unable to stick to his own cynicism when his little brother’s _dust_ was mixing into the mess of his bedroom floor.

He didn’t miss Boss’ sharp, red eyes spare a quick glance to the closet before snapping back to his face quickly, as if he were correcting the gesture before Sans could notice.

“Heh.”

So, he _was_ looking for it.

Why else would he come into his room?

That anger at his back seemed to grow tenfold at his condescending, little chuckle. Sans felt more sweat form on his skull. Even as the frightening atmosphere crept in around him, he couldn’t help the triumphant grin that twitched at his fangs. Smiling because he _knew_ he was right. Boss _was_ looking for the first aid kit; so it wasn’t _nothing_. He held Boss with attentive, crimson eyes.

“I can see right _through_ ‘ya, Boss,” He teased, shit-eating grin stretching wide.

Boss snapped, slamming his good foot against the floorboards in a sharp crack, “ _Damn it_ , Sans!”

Boss hated jokes. Sans telling them _anyway_ was usual for them, too.

“Heh heh heh!” He snickered. His brother may have grown distant over the years, but he still knew him well enough to guess what he was up to. That’s why it was pointless to hide things from him in the first place! And if he knew him; Boss wouldn’t touch the first aid kit as long as Sans was anywhere nearby.

And that injury looked like it hurt.

So, Sans scooped his heavy, winter coat off the floor and shuffled quickly out the door behind him, making a brisk exit before Boss could get mad enough to decide to catch him even on a bad leg. He slung his coat on over his arms as he walked out of the house, making sure to slam the front door loudly so his brother would know he had left.

But he didn’t walk further than that. Instead, he huffed a chilly white wisp of air into the winter day, leaning back into the front door, sinking into the comforting warmth of his furred hood. His head still felt like it was pounding. Slowly, he ran his hands over his aching, cracked skull. Exactly how many drinks had he had last night?

Apparently not enough. He felt that crippling anxiety he never could escape from for very long crash back over him tenfold as his thoughts ran wild.

Someone had hurt Boss. Someone. Had. Hurt. _Boss_?

Well, it was _that kind_ of job, after all. Heh. And it was _that_ job that caused a good ninety-percent of all of Sans’ stress.

A guard. A fucking guard! Hah!

Heh heh! Why had he ever supported Boss in getting to that goal?

But thinking back to his brother in their younger years, to that small child smiling; he melted. His grin fell as he slumped heavily against the door.

It was because he couldn’t tell him no. He should have told him no! Now his baby brother was on the frontlines, between the worst monsters the Underground could spit up and whatever sickening goal they had at the time. He should retire! Did Papyrus really still believe the Underground was worth protecting _?_ He should know better than that by now! The whole place was shit. Every monster had a rep; not one worth the time of day. Hell, even _children_ had execution points! There wasn’t _anything_ worth saving in the Underground.

Except, of course, for Papyrus himself.

The one person who tried.

Even that was going downhill fast. Could he really still claim Boss was the same Papyrus? That same hopelessly optimistic kid? They weren’t; were they? There’s no way Boss did this anymore because he actually thought the Underground was worth saving. He probably did it because it made him stronger! What level was he now? Twelve? _Fourteen_?

Exactly.

Why was he so damn worried right now? Papyrus could take care of himself. He’d proven it; time and time again. Nothing could bring him down.

So, why had someone even _tried_?

Sans bit his thumb between his fangs, chewing nervously.

_That_ was what really bothered him.

_No one_ should have even tried. Boss was such a high level now; no one should even consider it. It was at the point where most fights could be put to an end just by him approaching!

He shouldn’t be so worried about him. He _shouldn’t_ be, yet he had this nagging, irrevocable thought at the back of his pounding mind:

_He needed to protect Papyrus._

He wouldn’t be able to do that if he didn’t tell him anything! Why did he tell such a terrible lie in the first place? He was avoiding him like he was –!

Useless.

Sans pushed himself away from the door. No, he could help. He could make himself useful. He was good at making things useful. If Boss wouldn’t tell him anything; he’d figure it out himself. He still knew him well enough to guess what he was up to. He just needed information. So, Boss had been on patrol, huh? If he got injured while he was out at work, maybe one of the other guards had seen what had happened? It was at least a place to start.

He glanced to the sides, scanning the area. Like usual, there weren’t many people out risking the streets. At least the empty pathways still felt normal. He stepped off his porch into a shortcut. The void flew by quickly. He caught his footing effortlessly with practiced ease as he landed. In a blink, he was standing in front of his favorite establishment.

Sans swung the heavy door open. The smell of grease and alcohol and _food_ hit him first.

And was it odd that the food smelled so damn good to him? He supposed he did like Grillby’s, no matter how greasy or unhealthy Boss claimed it to be.

He felt compelled to close his eyes, basking in a smell that was practically home before he continued across the wooden floorboards. Several patrons turned to look at him, but seeing as he was a regular, he wasn’t paid much mind other than a cursory glance here and there. Accustomed to the plotting, calculated stares of monsters; Sans pointedly ignored them, which was easy to do in the dimly lit room. Grillby’s natural indigo glow was bathing the low lighting in a cool hue, but he didn’t go join the bartender at the bar like he normally would. Instead, he made his way towards the larger table near the center of the establishment, approaching the hounds who were crowded around a card game.

As he neared, by far the most feral of all the dogs, rumbled out a low growl. The massive form, well over twice his size, shifted a bit impatiently in his seat. Greater never spoke and, quite frankly, Sans wasn’t really sure if he _could,_ but all of the other dogs seemed to understand him no matter what barks he made. He had never seen Lesser speak either. Perhaps it was a dog thing? But he didn’t have to speak dog to understand the low rumble wasn’t _welcoming_.

Sans didn’t slow, he knew better than to show the slightest hint of fear, but in the back of his mind he was reconsidering if this were truly a good idea as he strode forward. It felt like he was some sort of treat readily walking towards waiting jaws –and the massive hound only seemed to get _larger_ as he approached.

Next to Greater, a leaner dog in cargo pants had heavy boots propped up on the table, relaxing. At the rumble to his side, he pushed himself away from the table rocking back precariously in the chair, then landed forward, perfectly fine. It was hard to tell if the balance was clumsy or skilled. Doggo hunched heavily over the table, the eye that wasn’t obscured by an eyepatch shifting suspiciously to the sides. “Who is it?” He demanded, crunching a smoking bone between his teeth, “What do you want!!!”

Sans made a mental note to flip the phrasing, the latter being the true question. However, he wasn’t fooled by that act. He’d seen Doggo fight. That hound _was_ dangerous. He could hit his targets with excellent precision even with “impaired vision”. Like himself, he suspected Doggo was making use of a seeming disability and was more talented than he tended to let on.

His eyes then flicked over to the last black-clad form that had their back to him. A large axe resting against the table within reach. Dogaressa spun at her comrade’s alerts, on the guard for a suspicious visitor, but she saw none. She furrowed her brow. Looking down, recognition struck her.

“If it isn’t the Runt…” She trailed off like she was used to having her sentences finished for her.

“Hey, fellas,” Sans said, keeping his tone casual. He took advantage of the fact that he was mostly seen as harmless without Boss towering by his side. Despite their guard being up, he easily managed to slide, uninvited, into the open seat at the end of their table. “Takin’ a break?”

Sans jumped as Lesser’s neck extended all the way over to him from the table in the corner, coiling like a snake. The game of poker he had been playing forgotten at the intrusion of new company. The little skeleton leaned far back in his seat, fingers digging into the wooden table, as the curious mutt poked and prodded at their visitor with a wet nose. An invasion of privacy clearly underway. Sans didn’t like being touched. He was unable to keep the distaste off his face. As he shrunk away from the unwanted attention, he felt a territorial growl growing behind his own fangs.

Dogaressa rolled her eyes in annoyance, shoving Lesser’s snout away, “Stop that…” She scolded, her usual strict edge marring her tone.

Sans visibly relaxed into his furred hood. The growl dying off.

He was glad Dogaressa was here. The only female was very well respected amongst her pack. He had often known her to be a voice of reason when the more feral and baser instincts got the best of the other dogs. She was a matronly figure. Talking to them without her could be rather difficult, especially when she was one of the few that actually _could_ talk.

“What do you want, Runt?” Doggo asked, relaxing again to the table, deciding Sans was no real threat. “Don’t waste our break!!!”

Greater rumbled in agreement.

“’m just takin’ a break, too.”

“HA!!!” Doggo laughed mockingly, pressing, “Did you even _go_ to work today?”

“ _Nope_.” Sans replied flippantly. He didn’t give a shit if anyone else reprimanded him about his work ethic. He only cared when Boss did.

“How lazy…” Dogaressa noted.

Sans just flashed the group his best personable smile. Shrugging as he rested his head on the table like it was too heavy to hold up. “Yeeeah,” He dragged out sleepily, “So ‘bout that; Boss might kick ‘mah ass if he finds out. Mind throwin’ me a _bone?_ ”

At the joke, Doggo’s face soured. The faintest growl rumbled past Greater’s snout. Lesser’s bobbing head seemed as empty as always. Yet Dogaressa didn’t even let on that she even noticed it whatsoever. “Depends what you want…”

“How ‘bout tellin’ me how work went today? ‘Ya know, in case he asks me ‘ta report.”

It was a simple, harmless request.

She glanced to the side, thinking, “Work was…”

“A pretty normal day?” Doggo finished for her. He slammed his boots down on the table. “There was no reason to skip it, Runt!!!”

“Well, ain’t that good to hear?” He started, but his smile dropped suddenly as Lesser’s face swayed curiously directly in front of his vision again. Like a cobra swaying to its own tune. The Runt bristled. Irately, he promptly picked his head off the table and scooched back to put some distance between them. Eyes locked to the furry creature.

While he was distracted, Greater leaned in closer to take a sniff, too. His slobbering jowls only a short distance from his skull. When Sans eventually noticed the hulking brute twice as close, he jumped again. Skidding impulsively to the opposite side of his too big chair.

The dogs that couldn’t speak made him nervous.

Dogaressa snickered lightly at his jumpy mannerisms, shooing the others off with a paw. “Was the Runt scared? He took the day off…”

Sans swallowed down his embarrassment. Instead, he focused his efforts on trying to sum up if that statement was all insult or if there was a hint of concern there, too. The dog couple often stopped by his post seemingly to check in on him as they made their rounds through the forest. Sans never knew if it was because Boss had ordered them to or if it was because they thought he was small and couldn’t handle himself. They’re the ones who started the whole “Runt” nickname, after all. Both possibilities somehow pissed him off. Even so, out of all the dogs in the pack, they easily made the best company.

“Just slept in is all,” he mumbled defensively, eyes glancing to the side. He didn’t need to be _checked up_ on. Still, as unwelcome as their nosiness often was, the obvious absence was still felt. His red eyes timidly darted back to meet hers, “Hey, uh, w-where’s Dogamy today?” He stuttered, unable to make proper eye contact as he nervously shifted in his seat.

Why was he asking? He wasn’t sure if he should. Monsters got dusted every day. Everyone just tried to take care of their own, but, still, shit happened in the Underground. Sans knew he couldn’t really afford to take care of any but _his_ own, so maybe it was out of line to even ask. It wasn’t like he could help or offer any assistance. He had to prioritize Boss. He was too weak to spare energy on anyone else.

Even in the low lighting, he caught the look in her eyes soften a bit, the hard edge in her voice a little duller. “He stayed behind…”

“We can’t all take a break!!!” Doggo insisted, his hot-headed side burning through, “ _Someone_ has to patrol, right?”

“Ain’t that a bit _ruff_? Cut me some slack,” Sans challenged, grinning toothily at his irritation.

“Don’t give me that shit!!!” He growled brazenly, “What’s the point of having you on the team if _neither_ of you come into work?”

Neither?

There was half a second where Sans almost let his disarming grin slide. He played it off, waving a hand dismissively, “Boss is busy. ‘Ya don’t need ‘im doin’ yer grunt work.”

“ _You’re_ supposed to be doing the grunt work,” Doggo grumbled, but seemed fine to leave it at that, huffing into silence in the corner at a single look from Dogaressa.

Sans just shrugged lazily as if he couldn’t be bothered. The motion bunching his furred coat up around his skull.

“How about you? The Lieutenant…” Dogaressa started, but continued when no one finished her sentence, “…Have you seen him, Runt?”

He didn’t miss how all the dogs seemed to tense a bit eagerly at the question. Their ears flicking his way to better hear his answer. It sounded like a loaded question to Sans. If he said yes, they might ask him what Boss has been up to. Not only did he not know the answer to that, but, even if he did, would he want to share it?

“Nope,” He said, going with option two; pretend Boss has been busy, he probably has been anyway, “Haven’t seen ‘im all day.”

He certainly wasn’t going to let on that Boss was injured!

He wasn’t sure how to feel when the group visibly relaxed at the answer. But something about it struck him as odd, setting off his paranoia. He felt acutely aware of the almost hungry way Greater was slobbering in his direction. Of the rather intense look the dead, beady eyes Lesser was giving him. Sans actually wasn’t sure if these two saw him as a person or simply moving treats! As _food._ They may have had a tentative alliance with the pack due to work, but they were hardly pals. On several occasions he’d seen them butt heads with Boss over Snowdin’s matters. For a brief second, he felt like he had just admitted to not having a shield for the day.

There was cool sweat on his brow. The dogs made him nervous. Or did their behavior make him nervous?

He swallowed down his nerves the best he could. “Ya’know, h-he still might get mad when he finds out I ditched.” Making sure to add _when_ and not _if_ like a fucking coward. Was he going to protect Boss or not? What pathetic resolve. “So, thanks ‘fer the info. I gotta get ‘ta my station before it gets too late.”

“What’s the point?” Doggo asked, rolling his eyes, “The days almost over!!!”

Another look from Dogaressa shut him up, before she spun back to Sans who was hopping of the chair. “Runt…” He paused to look up at her as she stalled for words in the flickering light. The cool blue casting an almost somber mood on her expression as her eyes bored into him _almost_ as nerve-wrackingly as Lesser’s dead stare. Yet, despite his growing anxiety, Sans waited for her like a perfect fuckin’ gentleman. Finally, she asked in a serious tone that held none of her usual edge, “Do you think the Lieutenant… Would be sad if you dusted?”

Sans went rigid, but so did Doggo, Greater, _and_ Lesser. It wasn’t exactly something you would just _ask_ about –let alone to just drop casually into a conversation! His first thought was that it was a threat, especially with the serious tone,–and if it were any other monster, he would –but Dogaressa was often blunt and to the point. Plus, something about the almost gentle way she asked had him honestly considering the question.

_Would_ Boss care? Boss couldn’t have any loose ends like that! It would be a weakness. A complete disaster. Let alone to reveal that to his _subordinates_!

“Heh heh!” he laughed loudly, not missing a beat, playing the pause as nothing more than initial surprise. He flashed his most charming, personable smile, “Nah~,” He chuckled, “I mean,” He shrugged noncommittally, un-pocketing his hands to twirl through the air in front of him, churning possibilities, “I suppose in the grand scheme ‘o things being a sentry down might be troublesome. But that’d be ridiculous! We know I never do any real work, anyway. So–“

“I think he would…” She stated resolutely.

Then, _why_ ask?!

“…So don’t do anything stupid at your post, Runt.” With that she turned dismissively, leaving Sans baffled.

“Ha Ha Ha!!! Sucks to be you, huh?” Doggo laughed, finding humor in the fact that his own brother might not give a shit if he got dusted. “Maybe try coming into work on time?”

“Tell ‘ya what,” Sans winked, “The _second_ I find a _timely_ solution _hour_ to do that, I’ll even put in some _over_ time!”

Doggo’s laugh bit off into a growl, but Sans was already walking towards the door, making a hasty escape before he could get asked anything even more invasive. He was aware of a long, furry neck that snaked after him between the tables. Stalking his every footstep. Sans’ paranoia grew as it closed in, increasing his pace, until he curtly slammed the heavy wooden door on Lesser’s curious, beady eyes.

Sans sighed, finally relaxing. This wasn’t going to be easy. If the dogs were to be trusted; Boss hadn’t even gone into work! That just made him all the more paranoid. So, it wasn’t a battle that arose from a job related issue? That was so much worse. Had someone tried to _hunt_ Boss?

The thought alone was absurd!

Boss _not_ going into work was already hard to believe.

And Sans hadn’t asked the pack how _long_ they’d been on break. Sans slacked off a fair deal and the dogs weren’t any less of a regular at Grillby’s than he was! It was possible, without Boss to kick them into gear, their ‘break’ had been going on for a fairly long time. Lesser had seemed pretty far into his poker game. Perhaps they’d missed Boss’ fight entirely, but it sounded as if Dogamy had been out on patrol all day. He would be a better source of information. Talking to him would be as easy, if not easier, than talking to Dogaressa. Plus, without the rest of the pack, it’d be a much less stressful experience.

If nothing else, he could figure out if Boss really hadn’t gone into work today. That was a pretty wild claim. He wasn’t sure if his brother had missed a single day since he’d gotten the damn job. Especially since Sans had seen him in uniform just a little while ago!

A very _torn_ uniform.

The sentry he sought was likely out in Snowdin Forest. If he took a shortcut he could risk passing Dogamy altogether. So, instead, he trudged off through the thick snow on foot, making his way down Snowdin’s empty main road. He felt eyes peering at him behind the boarded up windows, but the streets remained vacant. After passing the town’s sign, he was careful to avoid any unusual lumps in the snow. He knew the path was littered with traps that shifted through the days. One wrong step and he could be toast, so he was mindful of where he placed his feet.

The forest itself was rather empty today. Normally, he’d find the type of monster who liked to stay away from others. But as he kept his guard up, eyeing the trees, he didn’t see any of the younger monsters that he normally found lurking around the outskirts of town. When he finally did spy another soul, he was glad it was the one he was looking for. Up ahead on the snowy path not too far out of town a dark-clad figure stood, resting a large axe over his shoulder. He was facing the other way from Sans, glancing out into the treeline with a troubled expression to his large eyebrows. He looked lost in thought.

So, Sans called out to him as he approached. “’ey, Dogamy! Knock, knock.”

The white hound spun, looking back at the small, bundled skeleton approaching him. “Oh, it’s the Runt…”

“That ain’t how it goes.”

“So, you _were_ coming into work today…” Dogamy stated, like Dogaressa, completely unfazed by his jokes. Perhaps the couple had just grown immune to them after visiting Sans’ post all the time? He continued onto his own conversation, ignoring Sans’ attempt to derail it. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t come.”

Sans shuffled his worn sneakers. “Were ‘ya lookin’ fer me?”

“Yes…” He stopped as if he were considering continuing, but then added, “There was something odd by your post. I thought maybe it was you…” then, trailed off like he was used to having someone finish his sentences.

That piqued Sans’ interest. It was the first interesting news he’d gotten all day. Maybe it was related to Boss. His red eyes darted up to the taller guard. “Somethin’ odd by my post? What was it?”

He stalled. “Perhaps it’d be easier to show you…”

Sans wanted to see, anyway.

“Alright, then. Show me.”

Without another word, Dogamy took off deeper into the forest. Sans met his pace, quickening his own short steps to line up with Dogamy’s faster gait, so they could walk side-by-side. They walked for a few paces in silence. Once he’d gotten used to their new speed, the little skeleton glanced up at the hooded hound. The guard’s expression was firm, staring resolutely ahead. Tense. Sans wasn’t accustomed to seeing such a stern face on the man. He tended to be calmer than the other dogs in his pack. Something must be getting to him today. He could only imagine what might be by his post that would have Dogamy so anxious.

The tense atmosphere cooked the silence between them until it grew awkward. Dogamy had always been a quiet guy, so when it became unbearable, Sans broke the silence instead.

“You, uh, been workin’ out here all day?”

There was a bit of pause before he answered. “…Yes.” Sans couldn’t tell if the pause was because he was so high-strung right now or if he was just used to speaking after Dogaressa. Either way, the answer wasn’t much to go off of. And certainly not a conversation starter.

“B-By yerself?” Sans pressed, quirking a personable smile his way. Maybe he could get him to mention Boss.

“Yes… by myself.”

“How dedicated of ‘ya!” Sans chuckled glibly, poking fun at his own laziness. He stuffed his hands casually into his pockets as he grinned up at the other.

Dogamy didn’t really look at him and Sans’ smile faltered by a few degrees. The hound squeezed his axe handle dutifully, stating, almost scolding, “Loyalty is important…”

Tough crowd. So, he wasn’t in the mood for laughs today. He could usually at least get a smirk out of this one. Sans eyes fell off to the side as he dropped the flippant attitude. He sighed a white puff of cold air into the wind. “I hear ‘ya,” He mumbled, letting the furred rim of his hood obscure his face, “What good’s anythin’ if ‘ya can’t even hold on’ta somethin’ ‘ya value, right?”

He wouldn’t get anything useful out of the guard unless he could get him to talk. Fact was fact; dogs were loyal creatures. He probably wouldn’t win him over by flaunting his sorely lacking dedication. But misery loved company.

Dogamy didn’t say anything, so Sans’ flicked nervous eyes back at his face. This time, he was looking back at Sans, something softer on his expression more akin to what Dogaressa had given him. “…So, you can speak words other than jokes.”

“Heh,” Sans shrugged, “I’m ninety percent _funny bones,_ ” the softness in Dogamy’s eyes abruptly left, _“_ B-but I can understand the other stuff, too. Give me some credit,” He smiled weakly. “’Ya know, ‘ya weren’t with yer pack today. I t-thought the worst fer a second.”

The hound went a little more rigid, squeezing his weapon. “…You saw the pack?”

“Yeah. Saw ‘em at Grillby’s before I came out here,” Sans thought maybe he shouldn’t point out that Dogamy was starting to sluggishly trail behind the pace they’d set for themselves.

“…You saw Dogaressa?”

“Yeah.” They were approaching his station now. He could see the familiar clearing coming around the bend in the trees ahead.

“…How was she?”

Had they gotten into a fight or something? “Hmm,” Sans thought, trying to pick his words carefully, “She seemed like she was holdin’ up okay. Now that I think of it, she might’ve been actin’ a ‘lil strange.” Sans rounded the last bend, knowing this conversation would be coming to an end soon. He questioned one last thing, “Mind if I ask why ‘ya stayed behind?”

He wanted to coax information out of him, but he sorely wanted to find the oddity at his post, too.

Eagerly, almost anxiously, he scanned his post, looking for something out of place. Something missing. His small, shitty little wooden stand stood off to the side, a heavy blanket of snow coating the top. Surprising that amount hadn’t caved in the poorly constructed station yet. There was a busted lamp sitting off to the side; some garbage he’d dragged out here ages ago to prank Boss with, but never really got around to it. The snow was fresh, with only what was likely Dogamy’s faded tracks passing by along the road. A line of tall pines enclosed the clearing.

Everything was exactly how he’d left it.

Not one thing was unusual or out of place. With the strange way Dogamy had been acting he had been expecting something big. Or at least something that was noticeable with a quick glance. Sans’ crimson eyes darted around the perfectly normal clearing, but nothing was wrong with it. His brow furrowed at the mismatch of information.

He didn’t put two and two together fast enough.

Something slammed into his back, throwing him forward into the snow. Sans, who had his hands in his pockets, wasn’t able to catch himself. So, he fell straight down without any resistance. By the time he got his hands under him to push himself up, something heavy was already pressing down on his delicate spine. Sans spun to look back at his attacker. The black-clad hound looming over him spun the weighty weapon off his back. The enormous axe slammed into the ground next to Sans’ head with an audible _thunk,_ shaking the whole ground beneath him and tossing up snow. The assailant leaned the axe in threateningly, the blade dipping dangerously beneath the little skeleton’s chin towards the vertebrae on his neck. His own fearful, crimson eyes reflected off the metal.

“…Well, I stayed behind for you. Don’t move,” Dogamy commanded.

“Why you–!” Sans growled between his fangs, unable to put the betrayal into proper words. The axe inched closer in response. Sans had to lean his head away so the edge didn’t cut through his fragile bone.

Could it even be called a betrayal? He was such a fucking idiot! He let a person _who was planning to kill him_ lead him deep into the woods far away from civilization without a soul witness! _And_ Sans had been a complete chummy ditz about the whole thing, too! Putting his hands in his pockets. Putting his back to him. Chatting. Distracted. He’d made it so fucking _easy_ for him. Even an _allied_ monster would start to wonder if they should just take the damn shot!

What was he thinking?! What was wrong with his goddamn head today? Why had he thought, even considered for a second, that he was safe? Had he forgotten how much of a target he was? How _weak_ he was.

Instead of profound self-hatred, Dogamy took the small skeleton’s trembling as fear. “Relax. I don’t have to hurt you…”

He _wasn’t_ going to kill him?

A large paw roughly forced his hands behind his back. He could feel Dogamy struggling to tie a rope around his thin wrists with only one hand, “My wife often says you remind her of a little puppy… Be good and no harm has to come to you.”

His wife?

That was why she’d asked him about Boss. About his relationship with Boss.

The bitch! She was in on this, too, wasn’t she? They didn’t want his _life_ ; they wanted to _use_ him against Boss!

_They wanted Papyrus’ life._

His magic flared up along with his anger. The ground shook beneath him. Even with the blade pressed to his neck, a growl still rumbled past his fangs. His words were almost illegible through rage as the realization struck, “You t-think I’d _ever_ let ‘ya–!”

Four sharp bones erupted from the ground beneath him, so close to his spine that they ripped his coat as they pierced through. Dogamy wisely fell off the back of him. Narrowly evading being impaled by one of the quills. They retracted as quickly as they’d come. With his hands tied behind his back, Sans clambered onto his feet clumsily. But he didn’t run. He spun around, snarling at the larger monster. A red fire burning in his eye.

“YOU THINK I’D EVER LET ‘YA TOUCH BOSS?!” Sans bit out like some feral animal.

Dogamy didn’t back down. He calmly recollected his weapon, looking down at the small, furious monster. Studying his opponent. He asked almost sadly, “One hit point...?”

Shit.

 “Think this through, Runt. If we fight, you’ll die. But if you come with me quietly, it doesn’t have to be that way…”

“Like HELL it doesn’t!” Of course. People saw his HP at one and somehow overlooked his level entirely. No one ever questioned how he managed to gain seven levels with only one health. Sans could die if they fought, but Dogamy could die, too.

No, Dogamy _would_ die. Sans couldn’t let him live anymore. Not if he’d seen his hit points. Especially not if he was aiming for Boss. He was a dead man.

“Then, we’ll be doing this the hard way…” Dogamy stated mournfully, seeing his unworthy opponent wasn’t backing down. He hefted the massive weapon over a strong shoulder, then cut out wide.

The axe –no, the _halberd_ –had a much longer reach than Sans was anticipating. He dodged with his gut, stumbling back quickly as the swipe barely missed his midsection. He tried poorly to steady his balance in the snow. That’s when he suddenly realized the hound had actually _finished_ the knot! His hands were _actually_ bound behind his back.

Fuck.

He’d thought it was just a failed bind. Temporary and easily dislodged.

Sans glanced over his shoulder, tugging his hands apart as far as he could in the bindings. They were solid. It was tight, but considerably looser than some of the bonds Boss had put him in over the years. Boss always made them impossibly tight because he knew Sans could get out of them if he didn’t. It was just a matter of time.

He pulled and twisted his wrists desperately against the rope.

His attention was pulled forward as the axe came back again. Another wide sweep the same level as Sans’ head.

As he stumbled away, he tripped into a shortcut. Slipping into the void. Missing the blade by a narrow breadth again.

Unlike most other monsters, the guard wasn’t as surprised when he teleported. He’d no doubt seen Sans use it to get from place to place before. Dogamy spun, ever on the alert. Weapon ready.

Sans fell face-first out of the exit a few feet away into the snow, still working the bonds as fast as he could. Like this, he wouldn’t be able to use his bone attacks properly. They’d only be able to go in one direction: backwards. No sane person would turn their back on an opponent. Especially not one wielding a halberd twice their size! Not to mention, not even looking at your target was very impractical for aiming to begin with.

“F-fuckin’ cheat!” Sans growled into a mouthful of snow as he struggled with the bonds. Dogamy approached him slowly. Threateningly. He was drawing this out. The little skeleton rolled over onto his back. He curled up, trying to slip his bound hands under his legs. The rope snagged and Sans kicked wildly at the binding instead, trying to loosen it further as the hound’s shadow crept over him.

He didn’t get very far before the axe came down again. A forward chop.

Sans rolled into another shortcut.

The blade thudded into the ground off to his left, where he had been. He kicked even harder at the rope as Dogamy closed in again. “Give up, Runt…” The guard implored.

Sans gave nothing but a frustrated grunt as he tugged at the binding more.

So, the axe came in again.

Sans rolled out of his shortcut a few paces behind Dogamy, hands tangled in his legs. It wasn’t that he couldn’t teleport further away, but _if_ he did. If Dogamy lost sight of him, if he thought for a second he wasn’t in control of this situation, he might get his pack. Sans absolutely could not let that happen. No one else could find out about his health. He had to keep Dogamy in his sights until he was nothing but dust on the snow.

But he also couldn’t just sit here and keep dodging these blows!

The heavy blade crashed in and Sans ducked into yet another shortcut which dropped him into the snow behind the guard.

Sans cussed again as he rolled into a more upright position, stomping a tattered sneaker down repeatedly on the thin space of rope between his hands. He tried to stand up, pulling his wrists against the bonds with as much strength as he could muster. Flailing, because he had the slack to flail.

Perhaps Dogamy realized how close he actually was to getting out of them, the next swipe came in frantically. Sloppily.

Sans kicked down, rolling backwards into a shortcut. The axe missed him.

He tumbled out of the exit off to Dogamy’s side as the snow from the failed strike settled. This time, the rope was loose enough that he was able to tuck his legs through, slipping his hands under his stubby legs. His arms were now bound in front of him. Sans almost laughed in relief. “Heh!”

Dogamy growled in frustration this time. Whipping around towards the noise with fangs bared. He didn’t seem to appreciate playing whack-a-mole. His talk about surrender; abandoned. Sans didn’t have time to celebrate his progress. A much angrier chop was already leveled for his middle and closing in fast.

The little skeleton dove forward, snow spraying his back as the heavy axe sunk into the ground behind him. Again, he went through a shortcut, landing an awkward summersault with his feet under him this time. Sans steadied his legs beneath him and stood up. His wobbly legs weren’t very thankful –or stable. Sans was no acrobat!

At this rate he was going to tire out long before Dogamy did!

The dog looked incredulously over his shoulder. Sans was behind him again.

He bit desperately into the binding, taking a mouthful of rugged rope between his fangs as he did so. Gnawing on the rough binding. The hound spun around quickly, halberd out, in a huge sweeping blow that kicked up flurries like a storm, but when the white haze settled. Sans wasn’t there.

Dogamy spun again, wildly, axe landing hard into the trunk of a tree, but he only saw a flicker of Sans chewing on the rope before he vanished. The skeleton had been only a foot away.

 The Runt in the fluffy winter coat reappeared in front of him. Only a few feet behind where the axe was lodged in the pine. The small creature focused his time chomping down viciously on the rope with precious borrowed time. An audible _clack_ each time his teeth mashed together.

But this wasn’t working. He wasn’t getting out of these any time soon. With time, he was sure his sharp fangs could gnaw through the rope, but _time_ wasn’t fast enough. Sans _couldn’t_ do this all day. This rope was thick and if he didn’t know any better, it might have been starting to give his jaw rope burn. He needed something _sharper_.

The tree shook violently as the hound tugged the axe free, sprinkling down snowflakes from above. The guard didn’t waste any time throwing his weight into another wild swing at Sans. Of course, he made damn sure he wasn’t there by the time the blade whished by, reappearing, again, behind Dogamy.

Yet this time the hound didn’t do a proper swing. He lifted a foot of the ground, ruining his stance entirely, spinning crazily with the lost momentum. Sans frantically dropped himself into the snow as the axe came full circle!

He hadn’t been expecting _that._

It was a clumsy dodge; he literally fell onto his back. Flattening himself into the cold as the blade swished above his head several times in a tornado-esque fashion. It was the nearest miss he’d had yet. His soul pounded alarmingly in his chest.

 Dogamy managed to stop his wild whirlwind, regaining control on his weapon once more. He hefted the mighty halberd onto a strong shoulder to chop down on Sans who was still hadn’t recovered his footing, lying defenselessly below him in the snow.

He could get the rope off. He just had to hang on for a little bit longer!

Before he could bring the blow down, the small form jerked his hands violently, flinching into his large winter coat taking the fetal position. He’d used the motion to cast his magic. A large, red bone ripped through the snow below the guard. Separating the two, forcing him to stumble backwards. Sans scrambled to get onto his feet, trying to retreat to a safer distance.

Dogamy quickly corrected the swing, smashing his weapon in from the side instead. It cracked noisily against the protruding bone, shortening the swing. Still, the chop was almost successful.

_CRACK_

A deadly silver axe stopped an inch from Sans’ head. On panicked footing, he slipped back into the snow, falling away from the near-fatal blow.

“Give up, Runt…” Dogamy snarled, “Or you _will_ die.” He stepped around the bone, preparing the halberd for another strike. Sans was panting, soul pounding, on his knees, looking up at his executioner with big, unwavering eyes.

_Just a little longer_ and he could – _!_

He was going to regret this. He had nothing but dumb ideas today. But it was kill or _be_ killed. At this point, Sans was willing to take any risk if it gave him an opportunity to kill. Hell, he’d rather die than be used to murder his own brother.

“I said I ain’t!” He barked back.

The executioner brought the silver axe down in a final fatal overhead chop.

Sans rolled _forward,_ towards his enemy. He landed ungracefully on his back. He let his hands trail behind above him, yanking them as far apart as the binding would go, stretching the rope taut.

The axe slammed into the ground with a vicious _thud_ , cutting the rope clean in two. His hands snapped away to the sides. Sans looked up, cross-eyed at the blade that that nearly ended him. Sweat beaded on the little skeleton’s head seeing how close that had actually come. He hadn’t judged the distance very well. It was damn lucky.

Not that lucky. The hound started to adjust the handle down, the blade rolled closer.

Sans sunk his head into the snow, but his hands were free now. He could do this right. He finally had an opportunity to kill; so he took it. He threw his hands forward, grabbing the soul above him with gravity magic and, simultaneously, pushing it away. Not expecting the borderline idiotic move, he didn’t have any guard ready. Dogamy launched away like a rocket, leaving his weapon behind. Flung high into the air by the Runt’s powerful magic.

Sans panted beneath the abandoned blade, soul pounding. Blinking stupidly at the receding spec. He kept his grip on the dog’s soul, hand raised, as he eased himself carefully away from the dangerous edge, staggering onto shaky feet.

It was finally his turn.

He smashed his raised hand down. Dogamy followed shortly, smashing into the station’s clearing ahead. Snow kicked up like smoke from an explosion. He weighed the soul down with one hand, with the other, he summoned a row of sharp, red bones. A flick of his wrist rained the waiting blows down on his foe.

Dogamy wasn’t as good at dodging as he was. He heard a howl split the wind.

Sans stalked towards his prey, summoning more bones as he approached, shooting them down recklessly. Several received a scream or some sort of whimper in response, but Sans was too far away. He was attacking blind. So, he got closer, until he could see his victim clearly.

Dogamy was writhing in a small, dipped crater of snow. Several white bones were pierced through his body. One long spike impaled straight through his throat, which would explain the unearthly wheezing drifting up from the depression. Dust spilled out of holes in his torso. Dust piled in a small trickled pile below him. Dust filled his snarling mouth and spilled out the sides. But he was still alive. He still had enough health to live, but he was injured in terrible places. Two piercing, rabid eyes glared up at him as he approached.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Sans snarled, no mercy in his blazing eye, “You started this. ‘Ya can’t blame me for endin’ it.”

“I’m not…” and Dogamy gasped out an unearthly wheeze that amplified the dry dust filling up his throat. He struggled valiantly to try and stand, bent over in pain as he was. Sans had to grimace so he didn’t wince. “I’m not dying like this…” He garbled out the last of his voice.

Sans grinned insincerely, falling into old habits. “Tell ‘ya what. If ‘ya tell me what this was all about; ‘ya won’t have to,” He offered, also breathless, though obviously in a better state than his opponent.

That did nothing to quell the hostility in Dogamy’s eyes. He knew the skeleton was lying. The guard hadn’t given up. He tried to stand, his arms shaking profusely as he pushed up from the ground, but he didn’t seem like he’d be getting far into that endeavor. It looked like it hurt to even move.

So, Sans picked him up with gravity and slammed him back into the ground.

Anyone who tried to kill Boss deserved to suffer.

The hound howled as the impaled bones sunk further through him, spilling more grey dust into the snow. When he recovered enough to open his eyes, he glared again at the skeleton, but this time the Runt wasn’t smiling.

“Did yer pack know?” he questioned in a gruff voice.

Dogamy growled at him, but didn’t answer.

Sans picked him up furiously and slammed him down three more times crunching the bones brutally through his enemy’s flesh. It felt good to be the one attacking.

It wasn’t like Dogamy didn’t have the health to survive it. Most monster’s with high LoV would, but he didn’t seem to have the strength or will to fend off Sans’ magic. He just took the blows. When the gravity kept him down; he wheezed and writhed in the snow, but didn’t –or couldn’t –get out of Sans’ attack.

It was still his turn. And it was never going to _be_ the dog’s turn ever again if he had anything to say about it.

He squeezed his fist, crunching the hound under the gravity’s weight until the beast cried out in agony.

This treatment was too gentle for someone who wanted to kill his little brother, but he stilled his hand. Allowing Dogamy to gasp at some air. Not that it would help. Sans watched him struggle, watched him suffer, until he finally collapsed limply to the snow.

Sans held his soul for a while longer, until he felt the strain of doing so begin to dip his magic. He was already tiring. There was no point in draining himself on a motionless enemy, so he dropped the gravity. Dogamy seemed to sink even further into the ground.

_But it was still his turn._

The smaller summoned a large, red bone club in his hand. Its weight was comfortable and familiar as he curled his fingers around it. He stepped over the lip of the small crater and skidded down the slight bank to the dying form he wasn’t done with yet.

“Yer gonna tell me everythin’ ‘ya know,” Sans growled dangerously. Dogs were loyal creatures and getting him to confess information that might implicate his wife wouldn’t be easy –and probably damn near impossible, but he didn’t care if he had to torture it out of him. He came out here for information, after all. No point leaving empty handed now. He grabbed Dogamy by the ears, snapping his head back before he could just pass out on him. “What was this about? Yer after Boss, ain’t ‘ya?”

Dogamy just snarled at him. He continued his onslaught of questions, loudly, wrath roiling freely as his fangs snapped, “Which one ‘o ‘ya hurt ‘im?! Was it _you?_ ”

What a hate filled gaze he got in response.

Sans snarled back at him. “Did ‘ya fail yer lil’ attack and think ‘ya could just come after me instead? Think ‘ya’d have a better chance at ‘im if I were helpless?!” He shook the dog viciously and his victim whimpered.

Sans was suddenly aware of the bone lodged in his victim’s throat.

How had he conveniently forgotten about that little detail?

The dog probably couldn’t even talk.

Sans sighed out rage through his naval cavity. Seething, he soothed his hammering soul until the adrenaline pumping through him began to calm down a bit. Only then did the bloodlust finally starting to quell. Only then did he even begin to think a bit more sensibly.

And he realized he should never be this close to the dog.

With the last of his strength, Dogamy lunged at him, knocking the smaller skeleton over backwards. Sans managed to throw his hands _and_ legs up in time to hold the feral hound an arm’s length away, as a jaw snapped viciously in front of his face, dribbling dust into his vision. The weight was pressing down on him. Sans pushed back, but he didn’t have the physical strength to shove him off.

The row of angry teeth closed in each time the jaw snapped closed.

He might be able to free a hand and use gravity to throw him off. But he didn’t need to keep him alive anymore. In fact, he _wanted_ to wipe the mutt from existence.

And he’d only need one shot to do it.

Sans’ eye erupted in a crimson flame. A blaster crept into existence at their side as Sans tangled with the dog. A dangerous light growing behind its massive maw, blurring them to silhouettes. If he aimed high enough, it would hit Dogamy and not him. Sans kicked his legs out, shoving off the dog as hard as he could. Freeing up a hand, he called the blaster to strike.

A third silhouette slammed into the hound atop him.

BRRRRZZZZZTTTTT!

Sans pressed himself flat against the ground. The blast went flying over all their heads, cracking into the treeline, as the two others rolled away safely through the snow.

Fuck! He’d had friends!

Now he had a second opponent to defeat!

Sans scrambled onto his feet quickly, panting. He dismissed the blaster hastily, so it wouldn’t drain him empty before the next fight, but what little magic he did have left wasn’t promising. He couldn’t lose himself like that again; he needed to use his head!

His pounding head.

Not very far away in the snow, the second black-clad figure eased off of Dogamy carefully, avoiding the obvious injuries. But as they rose to full height, they weren’t as tall as Dogaressa. In fact, they were probably shorter than Sans. The hound tried to stand up again, but like before, he couldn’t seem to do it impaled by the bones. His arms shook unsteadily. He made some curt head motion resembling a relieved nod as he looked up at his rescuer, wheezing pain, unable to thank them.

The two shared a sentimental moment as they looked at each other.

A very _short-lived_ moment.

Abruptly, a silver knife flicked out of the figure’s cloak. They kicked the hound square in the jaw. Hard. The blade came down into the exposed neck, slashing his throat. Dogamy howled, but it came out as some gurgled shriek instead. Still he wasn’t dead. He still had a few hit points left. The little figure stomped on the thrashing animal’s face and stabbed the blade down until it did stop moving. Their foot finally gave way entirely through the head as the body dissolved into nothing but dust. Only Dogamy’s black hood was left behind.

It was one of the most sudden, violent outbursts he’d ever seen. And Sans was no stranger to those.

 The quiet voice that followed made the scene all the more terrifying.

“Sans the Skeleton,” The way they called his name almost sounded reverent. Surely, he’d imagined that subtle tone laced into their voice. They spun to face him, their hood dropping to obscure their face further. “Why are you here?”

It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t happy. The voice was simply empty.

Sans didn’t really know how to react. Speechless, breathless, he looked from the pile of dust at the hem of their cloak to the obscured face behind the dark hood. It took him dangerously long to recover from the shock.

He skidded his foot back in the snow, stance defensive. With a flick of his wrist, a red bone shot viciously out of the ground towards his new opponent.

They side-stepped it effortlessly.

Sans saw a flash of a striped shirt as their cloak was kicked up by the wind.

“There’s no reason to waste your magic. I’m not fighting you.” They stated the logic emotionlessly.

“ _Prove it_ ,” Sans growled cynically. If they thought he was falling for that bullshit calm; they were wrong. He had seen a calm scene just seconds ago and that had ended with one of the participants dead.

One flap of the cloak batted aside and something was thrown at him. Sans flinched, ready, but he wasn’t hit. The throw was low-balled. Instead, the object slid to his feet across the snow.

It was the knife.

The little skeleton looked at it distrustfully. Not sure what to make of it. A trap? Or had they actually just thrown their only weapon away?

“I’ll ask again,” The cloak said patiently, same inflection, “Why are you here, Sans the Skeleton?”

Sans winced at the almost robotic repetition. His crimson eyes glanced nervously up at the possibly unarmed, potential child, but definite murderer in the snow a few feet in front of him –and the dust that billowed away in the wind at the hem of their cloak.

He should kill them. They’d seen him fight. They’d probably seen his stats. They were probably unarmed right now.

He had barely any magic left. He was worn down. _And_ he knew nothing about his opponent.

Should he? Surely, they needed to die!

But his resolve was failing him.

The howling wind danced their cloak again.

That time, he’d seen it for sure. A striped shirt.

 Fuck it all.

“H-How old are ‘ya?” Sans croaked out weakly.

“Seven.”

He couldn’t do this again. He _couldn’t_ justify a child’s life for his; murderous or not. In the Underground, even children had execution points. It wasn’t like it was rare. That’s just how it was. It didn’t make them _not_ kids. Reluctantly, he glared off to the side, battle stance melting away.

“’Yer t-too young for this shit, kid. Go home,” He felt like he was signing away his own life as he slipped his hands into his pockets and plodded off towards Snowdin. Leaving his back exposed. Half-hoping they’d attack him; hoping they’d give him an excuse. He _needed_ an excuse.

A steady crunch of footfalls followed him, but no attack.

The crunching never once out-paced him, stopped, or changed direction. They were mimicking his every step. He stopped, glaring back over his shoulder. The crunching stopped, too.

The child wasn’t any further away from him than they had been before.

“I’m serious. Get lost,” Sans rumbled, eyes going dark, “Or I’ll  k i l l  ‘y a  w h e r e  ‘y a  s t a n d.”

If they had any concern for their well-being whatsoever; they didn’t show it. They stood as still as a statue staring up at his empty sockets. In fact, he stared into the other’s blank expression for so long; it started to feel like a challenge. But having a staring contest with a hooded person was up there on his list of stupid choices today. Yet, astoundingly, not even the worst.

After far too long, Sans turned away. Defeated. Red eyes flicking off to the side. It was almost embarrassing to have a child call his bluff. The soft voice stated his name again, “Sans the Skeleton.”

That shit was getting real old.

“I need you to listen to me.”

Annoyed, he walked away, scowling, “Kids don’t get ‘ta make commands.”

Footsteps crunched the snow behind him, matching his pace. The little figure trailed behind.

“I need to talk to you.” They changed the words, yet, somehow, it still sounded like the same thing.

“No.”

The soft voice continued on anyway, “If anyone asks; you tell them I killed the dog.”

“You _did_ kill the dog,” Sans corrected.

“Exactly.”

This was giving him a headache.

“Braggin’ rights are all yers, kid.” He shot dismissively. They could leave now.

_Crunch, crunch, crunch._

A matching:

_Crunch, crunch, crunch._

He stopped.

“’Ya always this annoyin’?” He asked, not even bothering to turn around.

 “Yes.” They answered seriously without pause.

Sans ran a shaky, frustrated hand over his cracked skull. This shit was why he drank. He glanced back over his shoulder at his unwelcome follower. Still the exact same distance away. “’Ya realize,” Sans stated slowly, breaking the sentence down so they could follow, “I’m tryin’, very hard, _not_ ‘ta kill ‘ya.”

A brief processing pause, before another robotic answer, “I appreciate that.” However, the half of their face he could see held no expression whatsoever. Tone dead-flat like they really didn’t think he’d do it, anyway. Perhaps that pissed him off more than anything.

“ _That’s it_ ,” His next step took him into a shortcut.

He stepped onto a tree branch high above where he had been. Careful with his balance so it didn’t ruffle the snowy branches too much and give him away. He settled his weary bones down close to the trunk, dangling his feet over the side. He peered down at his abandoned, unwanted company below.

The cloak didn’t try to look for him. They didn’t even turn to see which way he had gone. They just stared emptily at the missing footprints in the snow.

He heard a small, faint squeak on the wind, “Was Sans not supposed to be here?”

_A second voice._

Sans went rigid. He considered again if he should really just walk away from this, he had a chance to end this problem now, before it ever got out of hand. Their back was to him. But that voice sounded young, too. If not younger than the cloak had. He tried again, but couldn’t muster up any will to kill them. Damn, he even felt a pang of sympathy remembering days of taking care of a baby bones when he himself was small.

He didn’t move. Nor did he attack.

The cloak didn’t answer the squeak’s question. It blew a heavy sigh into the winter air, shoulders sinking, kicking up a small cloud that danced past their face. They stood rigidly still for a few moments. Then, in silence, Sans watched as the small cloak plodded off towards town.

A bad direction.

He felt some small desire tug his soul to stop them. To tell the dumb kid that they should stick away from towns and heavily populated areas until they were stronger. Older. But the kid had a cloak. They were relatively disguised. Not all short things in the Underground were young. Not all small things weren’t dangerous. People might avoid them. They weren’t _necessarily_ going to die.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

Mostly, he just didn’t want the responsibility.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter:  
> Frisk has RESET.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you liked the nightmares, because we aren’t waking up anymore!  
> MWA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAH!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Welcome to Underfell! I’m so excited we’ve made it to Arc Two! Except, at this point, I am compelled to redirect you to that long list of warnings posted in the beginning of this story. I love you all and I really don’t want to cause you any distress! Please make sure this story is for you before you continue!
> 
> This story is from Sans’ perspective. The rule of thumb is going to be; if he doesn’t get to skip it, neither do we. At no point are we going to leave Sans to suffer alone. We’re all in this together!
> 
> For those of you that do decide to stay and watch this train-wreck go up in flames with me; I want you to know that if you can handle Arc Two, you can handle anything I can throw at you to the very end of the story :)
> 
> I’m going to do my best to condense this where I can so we don’t spend any more time here than we have to. That being said; this Hell has to happen first. Just keep dreaming of Papy and I promise we’ll see him again.  
> In the meantime, enjoy some fireworks! The flammable kind!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, dear reader, you are seeing correctly. Chapter 11 is finally up!  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> CHANGE LOG: minor updates to Chapter 10  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> Mandatory Recap:  
> Sans met a weirdo in a cape.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

****

By the time he finally decided to stumble home, Sans just knew it was dark. In fact, it was so dark, the void didn’t seem like much of a change as he stepped into the blackness. It flung by at an incredible speed. In an instant, he was standing in the living room of their wooden cottage.

Magic drained from the fight; Sans was pretty tired. He let out a noisy, heavy sigh. Immediately letting his legs slip out from under him, he crashed back to the couch with his eyes closed. He sunk into his coat, which, in turn, sunk into the cushions. Maybe he’d just sleep on the sofa tonight.

He heard a familiar disappointed _tsk_ far off to the side.

Boss was still up?

Sans thought for sure, coming home this late, he’d miss him. Boss didn’t like it when he slept in the living room, but he’d never explicitly _forbidden_ it either. A simple _tsk_ was hardly enough to get his lazy bones to move off the couch. If anything, without more of a scolding, Sans got even _more_ comfy, snuggling into his winter coat and resting his hands across his plump stomach.

“C’mon’, Boss,” Sans yawned, “Lemme sleep here tonight.” He quirked a contented smile up the corner of his fangs. Hell, if he played it right, maybe he’d get a free ride up to his room. “And maybe all o’ tomorrow, too?  Ain’t like goin’ ‘ta work’s gonna make a difference or not.”

“Oh, it doesn’t?” A rough voice asked. He felt an arm drape casually around his shoulders.

Which, that was wrong because he’d heard Boss _further_ away, off to the side. That voice definitely wasn’t his either. It was far too close. And the arm–

Sans eyes shot open as the arm chummily draped around his shoulders tugged him in closer towards the woman on their couch, into a rather stern headlock. She smiled toothily, if not sinisterly, down at him. “Are you saying you’ve been slacking off on the job, Runt?” Undyne asked unforgivingly. Her tone invited a twinge of fear, but not for his job. She was more likely to kill him than fire him. He felt the headlock tighten significantly around his fragile neck, that possibility not too far off. His hands instinctively shot up to grip the scaly, muscular arm choking off his air. “Or maybe it doesn’t matter if _you’re_ not there?”

He could only fumble stupidly for words that didn’t seem to make it out of his mouth. Because what were the chances of happening to sit next to his commander, the _Captain_ of the Royal Guard, on his own damn couch? What was she even doing here this late?

His eyes darted nervously, past the one-eyed fish’s intimidating gaze, over to Boss who was shooting daggers at him from over by the kitchen. His face was sunken in a stern frown, two piercing red eyes angrily locked onto him. He only seemed to get even more upset as Undyne pulled the headlock tighter, smooshing him into her chest. Boss’ tall, lean form cast a long, ominous shadow their way. But rather than Boss’ slender silhouette; it was a bit different. Around his hips, the shape started to bow out, but then cut back to his thin legs above his knees. All his disapproving wrath was undercut by an out of place, too-short garment, with yellow stripes down the front.

Boss was wearing a pair of his shorts.

In front of _his_ boss.

And after the tense day he’d had; Sans couldn’t help it.

“Pffft! HEH HEH HEH!” He busted out laughing. It wasn’t that he wasn’t unaware of the fact that, no matter how friendly she was smiling, being in Undyne’s headlock was a near lethal hold. Especially for someone with a delicate neck like his. It was just that, _Boss_ wearing _his_ shorts? He looked ridiculous! He was way too big for them! He started tearing up he was laughing so hard. When Boss went into his closet; he didn’t think he’d raid the damn place for fashion! “Lookin’ slick, Boss!” He choked out, “HEH HAH!! HEH HEH HEH!”

Undyne didn’t quite know how to react with someone laughing like a maniac in her threatening death grip. Her smile faded slowly into a frown.

Boss was across the room in three short strides. His heels clicking across the floorboards because –of course!– he was still wearing boots with the mini shorts. A gloved claw yanked Sans out of Undyne’s grip by his coat. In mere seconds, Boss was throttling him, a talon around his neck, still depriving him of air, as he shook him violently, but Sans still didn’t stop laughing –even if he had to choke out the giggles. When that failed, the taller threw him roughly onto the ground at his feet and _that_ finally shut him up. There was a difference between Boss being angry with him and Boss being dangerously too violent. It was a thin line that Sans crossed often.

“heh…” He breathed his last laugh, smiling timidly up at Boss who shot a glare so vile down at him that it could kill stronger monsters had it been an actual attack. He pressed a sleeve to his grin to try and hide it.

“Excuse my foolish _brother_ , Captain,” He spat the word like he loathed it. Sans sank a bit into the carpet at the tone. Maybe he’d stepped a little too far out of line. Boss’ eyes snapped back up to his peer. “Perhaps we could finish this discussion another time.”

The Captain looked miffed. She laid back to the couch with her arms widely draped over the back, glaring down at the intruder. She considered the small skeleton for a moment and Sans’ crimson eyes locked with hers. Her face soured in response. “Fine,” she growled, pushing herself away from the couch. “It’s not like we can do anything with him here _._ We’ll finish this discussion next time, Papyrus.” She stepped over Sans as she made her way to the door, armor clinking.

“Next time, Captain!” Boss assured, saluting respectfully. Sans flinched as his red boots snapped together right next to his head.

She waved a hand casually without looking back, “You’re dismissed.”

That meant they’d be alone.

Which didn’t bode so well for Sans. Now would probably be a good opportunity to get the hell out of here while he was distracted with formalities. The little skeleton started to inch away slowly at a crawl, but a taloned claw caught him by the fluffy hood, yanking him onto his feet. Boss hissed, “Not _you_.”

He dragged Sans backwards towards the entrance by his coat as he pursued Undyne, the little skeleton stumbled clumsily on his tired legs to keep up. Boss opened the door for his commanding officer. “Have a safe trip,” He offered, as the winter wind trickled through the door.

“HA!” She bellowed challengingly into the night as she past him, her fiery ponytail dancing behind her. “Don’t jinx me. I’ll need a good fight to make up for today.” She got down the steps quickly before she paused, turning back to them. As an afterthought, she called, “Hey, Papyrus.” It was her more friendly voice Sans only ever heard her use exclusively with Boss and, even then, rarely. Her eye glanced down to the little form clasped in his other hand. Her face went stern, voice falling back to hate, “Don’t let the Runt ruin you. Alright?”

Boss didn’t respond for a significant period of time. “Good night, Captain,” he said properly as he shut the door. No sooner had the door shut than Boss whipped back to him. He hauled the small skeleton off the ground by the hood of his leather coat. “What the fuck was that?”

Sans shrugged, sweating, “Didn’t know ‘ya’d s-still be up, Boss.”

“Not your lazy ass rolling in at three A.M.,” Boss seethed. “What the hell was with that laughter? Are you incapable of reading a situation or do you only have one point in intelligence, too?”

“Couldn’t help it, Boss,” Sans quirked a nervous smile, looking down at his shorts. He shrugged as best he could while being dangled, “’Yer new look’s ‘ta _die for._ ”

He slapped him. _Hard._

The blow rocked his whole skull, like he had wanted to wipe the perma-grin off Sans’ face forever, but the damn thing never truly could be removed. However, if he decided to slap him a little harder than that; maybe his jaw _could be_ instead. Sans scrunched his face, trying to work the soreness out of his aching mandible.

He thought that one had been pretty good.

Well, it was going to be one of those nights –or so he thought until Boss dropped him.

 The tall skeleton pinched his eyes shut between his fingers like he couldn’t even contemplate Sans’ stupidity right now, “Just get the fuck out of my sight. It’s been a long day.”

Sans managed to catch his legs under him as he landed. Rubbing his sore jaw, he looked up in confusion at Boss who was angrily crumpling his face in frustrated contemplation. Somehow he liked that less than when he’d get mad and yell. This was unnatural. Boss must be stressed. _Especiall_ y, if he couldn’t _even_ spare the time to tell Sans what to _do_!

Dreadful.

Except, it actually _was_ sort of dreadful.

 He found himself backing up carefully, putting a safer distance between them in case the underlying anger he sensed finally decided to blow. When Boss opened his eyes again, Sans was halfway across the room from him, but still facing him with wide eyes. Sans felt that anger flare as Papyrus scowled tenfold.

Shit. He should’ve gotten out of here faster. “Welp. S-s-sorry ‘ta interrupt ‘yer, uh, _thing_. But ‘ya know how I love ‘ta sleep,” Sans spun hastily to make a final break for his room. He hadn’t gotten two steps when he heard it.

“Halt.” Boss commanded in a chilly tone.

Sans froze.

“What. Is. That?” Boss punctuated each word.

“Hm?” Sans asked clueless, looking back over his shoulder.

“The holes in your jacket,” Boss leveled slowly for him, pointing a slender finger idly towards his back as he folded his arms across his chest.

The holes in his jacket, now faced towards Boss, were from where he’d shot bones like quills through his back to knock an ambusher off of him. But not just any ambusher; a guardsmen. Did he tell Boss the dogs might be out to get him? He definitely needed to know. Or did Boss already know that? Was that why he was talking with Undyne this late?

Or should he just flat out tell Boss he killed one of his subordinates tonight and add to what was obviously an already bad day?

Sans sweated.

Well, he knew which thing he _didn’t_ want to do.

“It’s _nothin’,”_ he insisted. Mirroring Boss’ words from this morning.

Boss narrowed his eyes dangerously. “Tell me what happened,” He demanded, clenching his jaw tight. “ _Don’t_ hide it from me. You were in a fight.”

That was rich.

 “’Yer _overreactin_ ’,” Sans regurgitated those infuriating words, meeting Boss’ steely gaze. He knew he shouldn’t have said it, but he always had a big mouth when it came to jokes. Wasn’t it _funny_ how well the words fit?

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Boss warned, boiling over. What little patience he had; gone. “Answer me, _now_. WERE YOU INJURED?” He roared, getting to the blunt point, but it wasn’t quite the gentle, caring concern of a brother. He knew this pattern. This voice. If Sans wasn’t injured; _he would be_. Without waiting for an answer, the tall figure took an aggressive step towards him.

Sans took a skittish step back into a shortcut and, just like that, he was gone.

He backed into his own bedroom.

A brief, suspenseful silence hung over the house until he heard quick, heavy, terrifying footfalls storming up the steps. Papyrus had always been excellent at figuring out where he’d teleport to. Not that his bedroom had been the most clever of places to go. It had been more of a last-ditch fight or flight reaction. He knew how Boss could get when he was mad. Sans managed to flip the lock on his door right as the stomping reached it.

_BAM BAM BAM!_

The door rocked on its hinges under each blow. Sans shoved his hands against the door, trying to hold it together.

“Open the door or I’m breaking it down,” Boss rumbled menacingly from the other side.

“I’m fuckin’ _fine._ Stop tryin’ ‘ta break the door and go ‘ta bed, ‘ya asshole!”

_BAM BAM BAM!_

Sans spun his back against the door, pushing his whole weight into the trembling wood to hold it on.

“Open. It.”

“Get lost.”

“Sans, I will fucking dust you if I have to rip this door down to get through it.”

“Then, _don’t_ go through it!” He shouted back.

The banging stopped. Sans saw a red light dance briefly under the crack of the door between his dirty sneakers. The next second Boss’ magnificent bone sword crashed through the door above his head, blade first. It sent splinters and wood flying into the dark room in a horrifying display of the difference in their strength.

It was definitely overkill.

“Fuck! Fuck! _FINE!_ ” Sans shouted, sinking lower against the broken door to get away from the sword protruding several inches above his head. _“_ I’ll open the door. Just don’t tear the damn house down!”

The sword retracted, the light of the hallway spilling through the new hole. “I’m waiting,” Boss’ cold, impatient voice said.

Sans growled under his breath knowing he’d lost. Escape was futile. Even if he took another shortcut, Boss would just find him again; twice as mad. The little skeleton flicked the lock on the door. Before he could get out of the way, the door smacked into him. He was shoved aside as Boss barreled into his bedroom almost immediately, posture straight and regal. He slammed the door behind himself, glaring at Sans, but Sans was more pissed that slam might have been the killing blow to his bedroom door.

“Hiding behind the door now?”

“I ain’t hidin’ behind the door!” He bit out, giving a vicious look to Boss as he rubbed the back of his head. “This place ain’t cheap. Don’t rip it to shreds!”

Boss’ eye twitched. “I’m well aware. If you had just listened to begin with, I wouldn’t have had to,” His cold voice scolded, “You’ve been an insolent bastard all day. _More_ than usual. I demand you tell me what happened. Were you _actually_ injured?”

“I told ‘ya, I ain’t hurt!”

Boss glowered at him, studying the small skeleton before him. “I don’t believe you.” He ripped Sans roughly away from the door by his shirt, shoving him into the center of the room. “Take your shirt off,” He commanded.

“I told ‘ya I’m _fine,_ ” Sans growled. “Oh, _what_ was it?” He rolled his crimson eyes sarcastically, “‘I’ve got no obligation ‘ta show ‘ya’?” He repeated more of Boss’ own words from this morning.

The tall skeleton scorned him with a disapproving glare. He didn’t say anything, but Sans got the message through the pure animosity in his eyes.

“What?!” Sans yelled loudly, “It works ‘fer _you,_ but _my_ business is fair game?”

“It works for _me_ because I can actually _take_ a hit,” Boss spat mercilessly, patience thin. He spun the crimson sword off his hip, leveled towards Sans, “Now strip.”

Sans scowled off to the side. He didn’t even care anymore. Boss was always a blazing hypocrite. He was never fair; that’s why he was ‘ _Boss’_. Still pissed, the little skeleton slipped his hands under his shirt, discarding both his sweater and his coat in a wad to the mattress on the side that passed as a bed. “Happy?” He glared up at the towering skeleton, looking straight down the sword.

The air felt colder now that his scarred, ivory bones were exposed without his coat. His ribs were marred with dozens of interwoven nicks that criss-crossed the bone, but all the bones were still intact. _Fine_ , as he had insisted, apart from those visual imperfections. Each injury was old and long forgotten. Boss studied him so intensely that Sans started to grow uncomfortable under his piercing red eyes. He reddened, glancing off to the side.

 Boss settled a large, gloved hand on his head, twisting. “Turn,” he ordered.

Sans turned, feeling that hard stare inspecting his back. After a long moment, when the glove lifted off of his head, he spun back around to the tall, now unarmed, monster. “Told ‘ya I wasn’t cracked,” Sans snarled cockily up at the imposing figure.

Boss frowned even harder, his eyes roving over the exposed bones. Dead-set on finding _something_ to prove Sans was lying to him. Hands crossed, one finger tapped his elbow impatiently as he examined the other skeleton. Finally, grimace hard-set into his skull, he demanded, “Then, explain that,” As he poked a long claw into the small chest.

Sans looked down, but the bones looked fine to him. The finger poking into nothing more than full, complete ribs. Confused, he looked up at Boss, “These scars have always been here.”

“Not the bones, you imbecile! Your _soul_!”

Sans looked down again to the crimson heart floating within his ribcage. It was faint, but along the center was a thin hairline fracture, dividing it in half. It was so insignificant, Sans was surprised Boss had noticed it at all. He cocked his head to the side, “D-dunno. Never noticed that before.”

“You did not notice damage done to your _soul_?” Boss hissed, unconvinced.

“Looks pretty harmless ‘ta me,” he shrugged, slipping his hands into his short’s pockets.

“Oh, shut it. You never give a shit about anything,” Boss muttered as he knelt down in front of the little skeleton so he could get a better look. “Hold still,” he ordered, slipping a hand around to Sans’ spine. He pushed on the vertebrae on his back, forcing the smaller to puff out his chest so he could better peer suspiciously into his ribcage at the floating light. The grimace on his sharp face only increased the more he looked.

Sans felt awkward in the semi-embrace with the other’s face pressed so close to his ribs. “C-C’mon, Boss. Drop it. It could j-just be hair stuck on it or somethin’!” He shifted uncomfortably, “It’s nothin’. It _feels_ fine.”

Boss grunted unhappily, pulling away. He left a hand resting on his small arm. He fixed Sans, who fidgeted awkwardly under his gaze, with a hard, stern stare. “I order you to tell me the second it feels _not ‘fine’,_ ” Boss stressed.

“Pfft!” Sans stifled a laugh at the _almost_ cute way he’d worded that, grinning at his brother, “’Ya got it, Boss.”

Boss scowled daggers at him. “I’m dead serious, Sans. If I find out this has gotten worse and you haven’t said anything, you will be punished _severely._ ” The grip on his arm tightened just as severely.

The grin slipped off his face. “’Ya got it, Boss,” He repeated in a deader tone. Amusement gone.

“Good. Glad we understand each other,” Boss leveled sternly in more of a threat than a compromise. He rose back up to his full height, looming over the shirtless skeleton. Sans was certain there was more scolding to come, but Boss turned his back on him. “You’re a pain in the ass,” he grumbled as he stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

There was still a hole in his door, but it had managed to survive Boss’ thrashing.

Sans let out a sigh he’d been holding in. Sure he was alone, Sans drew the crimson soul out of his ribcage. The ruby glow under lighting his features, he rubbed a finger up along the light, following the faint line visible in its center. The oddity didn’t move. It couldn’t be brushed away. As his finger trailed up the surface, he could feel a faint divot.

It was definitely a crack.

Still, it was tiny. Insignificant. His soul still felt whole to the touch. He squeezed it slightly in between his palm, the organ squished between his fingers, but the crack didn’t increase. He’d never really touched his soul before. It felt rather malleable, in fact. In a good, sturdy way. He added a little more pressure; but still the soul didn’t break. He still felt whole. His thumb skimmed –

– _that fucking thumb! Wandering along the edges of his_ –

Sans went rigid at a sudden unexpected burst of emotion. He changed his mind. He suddenly didn’t want to touch the crimson light anymore. He shoved it quickly back into his chest, tucking it safely inside his ribcage. A heated blush on his cheekbones.

It was fine.

Like his bones, the crack was nothing more than a scar marring its appearance. It still worked and it still functioned. Therefore, it was fine.

Moving on, he untangled his shirt from the wad on his bed. He slipped it on. Then, held up the coat. His eyes roamed over the leather inspecting the holes. There were a few, but it wasn’t like it had ripped his jacket to shreds or anything. Somehow, he could imagine the jacket being in much worse shape. In fact, he felt it was kind of clean.

He could fix this easily.

He headed over to his closet, where he stored most of his practical items; clothes, the first aid kit, as well as the small sewing kit he’d used when they’d made Boss’ armor. Things like needles and thread were useful. So, Sans never threw it away. As he looked inside his closet, he noticed a long pair of black, leather pants lying on the floor.

Boss hadn’t picked up his clothes. Which, was odd, but not unheard of. Perhaps now that they were ripped, he just decided to leave the garbage in his room. He picked them up, thumbing over the largest tear. It ran from the front, near the top of the femur. Then another diagonal lower, and another opposing diagonal under that, etc. Until the line of slashes ended. There were too many to be claws. Plus, none of the cuts appeared parallel. It looked more like a marking from a sharp weapon that had slashed back and forth. Likely in rapid succession if Boss had failed to dodge.

Sans can see why he ditched them. He couldn’t possibly wear these out. Not if he wanted to look proper, which Boss _always_ did. Still, Sans’ too small shorts were hardly a suitable replacement. He smirked at the thought, he had looked pretty silly in them. Sans could only see him wearing them in the first place if he had absolutely no other option. Boss had other clothes, right?

Did he?

He always wore this. He was a lot taller than Sans. Certainly, finding him clothes that fit as he had grown taller when they were kids had been tough, but they didn’t need to dumpster dive for clothes anymore. Boss certainly made enough that he could buy something from the city.

But he _always_ wore this.

Sans folded them over his arm. He had made these. He could fix them, too.

Just in case.

He retrieved the sewing kit and laid it out on his bed. He settled into a seat between the clothes and sheets and kit. For the entire night, he sat there, sewing the clothes back together. By morning, he had fixed Papyrus’ pants and his favorite winter coat. Both had been sewn back up with black thread and the seams were hardly noticeable. They were as good as new.

Sans, on the other hand, was not.

After a night without sleep, he was sluggish and tired. Even blinking his eyes felt slow as his head nodded forward incrementally, begging to doze off. But the morning light that trickled into the caverns had just come out. Boss would be up soon. And if Boss was up, he’d probably come in to make sure Sans was up. Even if he went to sleep now, he would just be dragged out of bed within the hour. But, if he _left_ now; he could sleep at his station like he normally did.

It had been his go-to backup for years when sleeping at home failed.

And it had always been rather effective.

So, he slipped on his mended coat, eager to get some shut eye. Next, he folded Boss’ pants into a neat square. Shutting his door behind him, the little form quietly tip-toed his way down the hallway where he set the pants on the floor just outside of Boss’ room. He scribbled a quick note on a piece of paper against the wall. Then, left the message on top of the pants:

“I really dig your new look, Boss. But you’re _cramping_ my style.”

Finished, he sleepily stepped into a shortcut out to Snowdin Forest, swaying unsteadily. The void sped by, but out of sheer practice Sans was able to hold his soul steady even half-asleep. He landed directly next to his station, collapsing into his chair immediately. He was exhausted. He was ready to sleep. He plopped his head down face-first on the shoddy wooden table.

“Good morning, Sans the Skeleton,” A soft, emotionless voice greeted. It sounded awfully close.

Panicked, Sans stumbled out of his chair. Away from the intruding voice. In his tired state, he stupidly lost his footing and fell into a snow poff behind his station. Kicking up snow flurries that sprinkled down. Cautiously, he peeked up at the wooden stand. There was a small child in a cloak sitting on his table, feet dangling over the side. The hood low over their face. They didn’t laugh at him or, really, express any emotion at all.

“I still need to talk to you,” they stated matter-of-factly in a voice that was neither commanding nor submissive. It was simply empty.

Sans promptly righted himself. He brushed off the snow clinging to his coat, as he glared at the child. He was not doing this now. He wanted _sleep_. “Look, kid,” The stocky skeleton huffed out in his most convincing voice, “I don’t have time to deal with ‘ya.”

“You don’t have anything planned for the rest of the day,” they countered.

“I–,” He cut off. Well, he didn’t. Why the fuck did they know that? He supposed he never had anything planned any day. He did nothing _everyday_. Regardless, he scowled at them, amending the statement; “A _real busy_ day of not dealin’ with you.”

They cocked their head the slightest bit to the side. “You’re grumpy,” they noted.

“No shit.”

“Did you sleep last night?”

Sans bristled, not liking the accuracy of their guess.

It must have been telling. “I can wait.”

“If you could _wait;_ why the hell are ‘ya here first thing in the goddamn morning?” He grumbled.

 “Because,” They replied, their voice never once changing inflection, “I’m annoying.” They stated it as if it was a fact of life. Some unbreakable nature they were bound to obey no matter what the situation. And they said it in that same. Damn. Voice!

“I don’t want ‘ta _talk_ ,” He hissed at them.

“I don’t want to _fight_ ,” They matched.

 And their voice was too damn hollow for him to tell if that was a threat or not!

One bead of sweat slipped nervously down his chin. Instinctively, his feet fell into a wider stance. Ready to pounce at the first sign of danger. He inspected them closely for some sign of impending attack, some hint of hostility, but there wasn’t a sign of anything. They just sat, stiff as a stone, on his stand. In fact, they showed no signs of moving any time soon either, calmly placed upon his table. Part of him felt silly for suspecting a child.

No. This wasn’t just some _normal_ child. He’d seen them bust out of a calm stance just last night and stab someone to death. He shouldn’t let his guard down. They were more dangerous than they let on. There was no way he could sleep with this _threat_ nearby.

“ _Leave,”_ He snarled.

“No,” their soft voice stated simply. “I’d like to make a trade.”

Ah. So that’s what they wanted. It was already starting. A frustrated growl rumbled past his fangs. Fuck it! He wasn’t sticking around to get blackmailed by this kid just because they’d seen his stats last night. Or whatever the fuck it was they wanted as hush money.

“Then _I_ will,” He stepped into a shortcut.

 The cloaked figure didn’t seem surprised or troubled by his trick. They’d seen it before, after all. The image of the lone, stoic child watching him from the stand was cut off by the void. He steered his soul through the blackness, aiming to get as far away from them as possible, but he was exhausted. He landed right next to his other post which was seated along Waterfall’s main path. Not quite as far as he’d wanted to go, but good enough. Despite the chatter, a glance told him no one was around except the glowing red flowers.

Finally.

No one would bother him here. No truly sane person should be out this early, anyway.

He allowed the tenseness of his last encounter to leave his bones. Let the anxiety slip away. Here he could finally have what he wanted; _sleep._

The stocky skeleton fell into the seat at the unkempt booth, resting his head on the table in his arms. He shut his eyes. He was more than ready for slumber to take him, but an annoying drip seemed hell-bent on keeping him awake. Tapping right on the top of his skull. Annoyed, he dropped his hood over his head. He remembered why he didn’t sleep out here. Waterfall was a noisy place to sleep, but it wasn’t long before he managed to drown out the grumbles and threats the flowers shot his way with his own slow, steady breaths. Relieved to finally be able to relax, he let that relief spread through his bones. Gradually, he dozed off along the damp, red road. He preferred the silence Snowdin offered, but he settled for the trickling sound of water.

 

_He was drifting down a river._

_He heard a child humming a song. He should kill them._

_But, he could kill them after this song. It was eating away at his mind, after all. He’d felt like he’d heard it before, but he couldn’t place the name. He felt he knew the notes that were coming before he heard them. His eyes drifted to the wake the boat was leaving. He was sure he knew it._

_Suddenly, the child was much closer to him; now holding the knife._

He jumped, lurching violently away from the knife. The whole table lurched along with him, jostling the child sitting atop his station table. They had their feet dangling off the table as they kicked their feet playfully, but stopped abruptly when they were almost thrown off. In the background, instead of spitting insults at him; a choir of red echo flowers sung along to a familiar tune.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep.

The cloak turned to face him. “Good morning, Sans the Skeleton,” they repeated like a broken record, starting the whole thing over, “I still need to talk to you.”

“W-What are ‘ya doin’?” He asked half asleep and half afraid. Afraid? No, it was the dream lingering. His head hurt. He wasn’t _really_ afraid of this little kid, right? There was no way. Cautious, maybe, but not afraid. Besides if they were going to kill him they would’ve done it while he was asleep. He tried to get a grip on his pounding soul.

“I’m waiting,” They answered him too honestly.

He eyed them wearily, crimson eyes lingering suspiciously on the cloak. They didn’t appear to have a weapon brandished, but he was unable to shake this feeling of unease. His eyes fell nervously to the side as he settled reluctantly back into his seat, feigning nonchalance. “That ain’t waitin’.” He reprimanded, “That’s downright stalkin’.”

“No, it’s waiting,” They insisted in their soft voice, “In an optimal location.”

Surely, he hadn’t gotten enough sleep to deal with _this_. Sans groaned, rubbing his temples to get to the growing migraine within his head. Hissing out thoughts, “What do I gotta do ‘ta get rid of ‘ya?”

“You could have a conversation with me.”

It had been rhetorical. He shot them a look. The cloak seemed to completely misinterpret the quiet that passed between them, taking it as an opportunity to continue their proposition.

“I’d like to make a dea–“

He stood up, abruptly, box chair clattering to the ground. No way. He was not getting blackmailed by a seven year old. “No. Nuh-uh. N-nope,” he chanted, “I ain’t playin’ ‘yer games, kid.” He stepped into a shortcut, but, this time, just as he was about to escape into the void; a tiny hand grabbed his shirt. Fingers furling into a fistful of the red fabric.

And they had moved so fast! Sans wasn’t expecting it at all.

Like the clumsy ass he was, he practically stumbled into the shortcut, pulling them _both_ into the abyss. They spun through the darkness together; the child hanging on. They didn’t even make it to their destination. They were spit out violently, Sans managed to keep his feet under him, skidding backwards across the slick, slushy stone between the stretch between Waterfall and Snowdin. Yet, _they_ ’d kept their footing, too, stumbling in towards his chest. The cloak was right in front of him. A little hand still clasped tightly into his sweater.

Fuck! He knew he should have been more wary of them. He _knew_ it! Why had he let them get so close to him? He was easy experience and they knew it! From this distance they could strike his soul directly. Not that they’d _need_ to if they were going to kill someone as weak as him.

Frantic. He instantly threw his arm back once they were free of the void, summoning a long red bone club in his hand. The skeleton raised the weapon to strike down. He didn’t care if he had to take the arm off to get them to let go.

But, the child let go almost immediately. Throwing both hands up, not in defense, but surrender. Quickly catching onto his paranoia. “I’m sorry, Sans the Skeleton,” That soft voice stated, head tilted up as if they were looking at him, “I won’t touch you again.”

And their voice was _so damn emotionless_ he couldn’t tell if they were genuine or not!

He didn’t lower his weapon.

The child didn’t move away. Flinch. Attack. Or perform any normal reaction. They just stayed perfectly still, hands up, palms out. Still as a stone, despite a club poised to crash into their skull. They calmly stared back at him.

The bone trembled in his hand.

He couldn’t do it. Not when they didn’t even give him a good enough excuse!

He kept a cautious eye on them as he backed several steps away, until there was a hefty distance placed between him and the suspicious individual. They didn’t pursue, back up, or move from their position of surrender at all. They didn’t put their hands down until Sans lowered his weapon. Even then, the child did so slowly, as if they were a mirror mimicking the height of his own arm.

“Ya’d be better off killin’ me than blackmailing me,” He spat.

“I’m not here to kill you,” They replied. “I don’t want to blackmail you either.”

“’Ya said ‘ya wanted to make a _deal_ ,” He corrected, skeptical.

“Yes. I do.”

Sans narrowed his eyes at them. He couldn’t imagine what sort of deal a child wanted to strike with him that didn’t come with hush money or some other leeching benefit.

And then, it hit him; they were probably here on _someone else_ ’s behalf.

Kids, especially orphans like this one, took jobs where they could take them just to get by. Someone had probably handed them some gold and told them to go fetch Sans. So, here they were.

A revolting feeling sunk into his gut realizing what kind of “deal” this likely was if that were the case. But he hadn’t dealt with this sort of proposition in years. Not since Boss had taken over. Well, he supposed, occasionally, someone would try to bypass that process and go straight to him, but that behavior had more or less been weeded out by Boss’ fury.

Now, he felt self-conscious looking down at the little messenger. And dirty.

What sick fuck would send a kid for this shit? Did they think sending a child would make him _more_ likely to accept? That he’d let his guard down and just go along with it? Or was the kid just cheap? Also, a buyer that didn’t even show their face was incredibly suspicious –to the point of not being credible, at all. Except, with this business, it wasn’t unheard of that someone didn’t want their reputation stained. Sometimes, they didn’t want a rumor that they’d bought Sans for the night to get around. On more than one case, he’d been bought by one person and taken somewhere else. Though that behavior had also mostly been stamped out by Boss’ intervention.

Then, there were also those who wanted to flaunt it–

He didn’t want to think about this.

Point was –he didn’t need the money. Boss hadn’t sold him in months. Plus, whoever was asking was breaking the rule about buying him in the first place by asking _him_ and not Boss. He wanted nothing to do with this.

“’Ya can tell whoever sent ‘ya; I ain’t interested,” He bared his fangs menacingly at them. He didn’t want to go down this road again. As far as he was concerned; he was done with this sort of business. However, the messenger didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest. “If ‘ya got a request, ‘ya take it to Boss. That’s how it _works_ ,” He outlined for them loudly, reciting the rules. But he shouldn’t have bothered.

The cloak tilted their head the slightest bit to the side as if the whole thing had just flown over it.

He didn’t plan to dive into the details of the explanation with a mere child. Did they even know why they’d been sent to get him? They were too young. _The sick fuck_. Pissed, he spun his back to them, stomping away through the snow.

Why was he not surprised when he heard little footsteps crunch the snow behind his own?

He spared a quick glance over his shoulder at the child who wasn’t any further away than they had been before. He decided to ignore them, refusing to stop walking. Maybe he couldn’t bring himself to kill them to get rid of them, but they’d give up. No kid wanted to follow some lazy good-for-nothing around all day. If they had been paid in advance, they’d get bored eventually and leave him alone.

So, he went about like usual, plowing his way through the thick snow on Snowdin’s main road. A little shadow following his every step.

When he never slowed, a soft voice piped up from behind him, “Stop. We need to talk.”

He sighed in frustration, picking up his pace. Showing them nothing but his back. He was done with them. If they decided to attack him with his back turned, he’d finally have the excuse he wanted. Then, he could go back to having one shadow instead of two.

He really didn’t like being followed, however. It made him uneasy.

“Turn around.” The voice implored again after several more paces, yet their inflection was as dead as ever. He was starting to suspect they were just one of Alphys’ robots. And if that were the case did they really count as a kid?

A few more comments of a similar nature and he realized why they had stated their disposition like a fact; they _were_ annoying. Really annoying.

Luckily, he had an idea to fix this. The stocky skeleton continued his fast walk as he steered them all the way to a familiar building in the center of town. This place could get rowdy. The bar was certainly no place for a child. Most children avoided adults. They definitely wouldn’t be keen on walking into a den of monsters who were likely well over their level. Although with _them_ it was hard to tell if that were true or not. He paused in front of the door to Grillby’s, sparing a challenging glance back at the kid.

“ _Listen_ ,” The little shadow said and there might have been the faintest tint of some sort of feeling beneath the voice. A hint of that insistent stubbornness he’d seen them display. They probably didn’t want to go inside. A wise choice.

He smirked, fangs slanting up victoriously.

So, that settled it. He was definitely going in. He swung the door open.

But the ballsy little brat followed him straight inside. Little footsteps hot on his heels as his old sneakers scraped across the wooden floorboards of the frequented establishment. The place was pretty empty this early in the morning, but there were still those few customers about who just never seemed leave.

“Sans the Skeleton,” The soft voice said, keeping up with him easily. “I need you to listen to me.” Their voice didn’t hold much emotion, but he could pick out the tint of an urgent, desperate edge.

Damn, they were persistent. He curled further into himself, sweat on his brow. He was sure that would get rid of them, but he refused to turn back and let them have their way. “’Ya got a request? Take it through Boss,” his gruff voice reminded irritably as he steadily walked through the haze of the bar.

They went silent at that, but he could hear them behind him still, easily matching his steps. He slid onto his regular barstool at the counter. The faint footsteps stopping behind him. Still he didn’t look at them. He was trying to ignore them even though he’d done a piss poor job so far.

The stocky skeleton leaned heavily on the bar. He could really go for some mustard, but he didn’t want anyone to catch him with one of his favorite, embarrassing vices. He could also really go for a _drink_ , too, considering the morning he’d had. And since when had he ever cared about proper drinking hours? He motioned with a finger to the fiery bartender who turned to fetch his order of whiskey.

He sensed someone crowd in behind him. Their insistent advances made him feel unnecessarily anxious. However, he continued to disregard them. He needed to ignore them or they’d never go away.

“Sansy~” A voice cooed. It wasn’t the kid. It was far too familiar for Sans’ comfort. “What’s this I hear? You might be gettin’ back into work?” The nosey bird monster leaned in close to the counter on his right.

The small skeleton leaned away from the heavy stench of alcohol radiating off the eavesdropper. Damn it all! He didn’t want to deal with this shit anymore. He just wanted an easy morning!

He sank further into himself. Cool sweat beading on his forehead. His skeletal hand curled into a small fist on the counter. He used his only out.

“G-Got a request; take it through Boss,” He repeated gruffly, but his stutter ruined the edge. Flattened any threat he was trying to get across with the slight anxiety creeping into his voice. Fuck’s sake, he was weak! He turned slightly away from them. Eyelights regretfully locked down and away. Head sinking further into the furred rim of his coat.

“Heeyyy,” They pestered, keeping their voice light as they slid in close to take the seat on his right. “Don’t be like that. If you’re getting’ back into business; let me know.” They leaned in closer to him. A feathered claw creeping towards his hand across the bar.

Something silver spun between them. He caught the brief second a small, fleshy hand stilled the spin on the dagger, clasping it firmly in a tiny fist, before it slammed point-down into the counter between them. The whole bar shook. Glasses rattling across the surface. The buzz in the bar dulled to a faint murmur.

Needless to the say, the claw never made it to his hand.

The little person in the cloak had wedged themselves between them. They shoved the red bird out of their way, as if they were ignoring the annoyance’s existence altogether, to take their seat at the barstool next to Sans. They kept one hand firmly wrapped around the hilt of their dagger as they sat still upon the chair the bird had tried to take. A blue sleeve of a striped shirt visible from beneath their cloak. But the hood still sat low over their face. He couldn’t see their eyes, but got the sense, from the slight tilt of their chin, that they were eyeing the eavesdropper menacingly.

“Yeesh,” The red bird muttered, backing off. The murmur in the establishment rose back to its normal volume. When the drunkard slouched away, the cloak pulled the knife free of the bar.

Grillby, ever stoic, came to fetch the new guest’s order. He stood in front of them, radiating light as he set Sans’ glass of whiskey down near him. Then, the fire turned to the cloak expectantly.

“A bottle of mustard,” The soft voice replied.

Grillby, with years of experience as a bartender, who was used to some of Sans’ stranger requests late at night when not many guests were in the house, didn’t even bat an eye at the bizarre order. Not that he had eyes to bat. He quickly retrieved the requested item from below the counter, sliding it to the customer. Little hands caught the yellow container, a finger rubbing absently into the plastic.

Sans eyed the bottle hesitantly. “S-strange order,” He noted.

“I got it for you,” The little voice said. They set the bottle of mustard in front of him and slid the glass of whiskey out of his reach, exchanging the orders.

“I d-don’t want this,” He denied leaning away from the yellow bottle a margin, but his eyes were locked onto the container.  
               “Then, go tell them I stole your order,” They replied emotionlessly, fully knowing there was no way he was going to admit that. Plus… the child seemed to notice how his eyes darted nervously down at their quick quip, lingering across the silver edge in their hand.

So, he’d been right to be cautious of them. They’d apparently retrieved their weapon from the snow…

 At his unsettling look, they slipped the knife back into their cloak, hidden from view. He wasn’t sure if it the gesture was meant to be reassuring. Not knowing where it was had the opposite effect. He didn’t feel any safer.

Sans sighed heavily, slouching back to the counter. He wasn’t getting away from this brat, was he? Timidly, he grabbed the bottle between his hands and pulled it close. Fangs clasping over the top. He sucked the mustard from the bottle. His tongue lapping up the sour substance. He loved the taste. It was a bit relaxing. He eased into his seat, licking the top.

A few quiet moments passed. Nothing but a nostalgic taste and the dull buzz of the bar behind him.

Damn, he was easy.

He didn’t realize until too late that he’d dropped his guard so much. But as his crimson eyes glanced nervously to the cloak at his side, they weren’t watching him. Their head appeared to be angled down. The small hands cupped the glass of whiskey in front of them, fingers absently smoothing the cup’s sides.

Sans watched them instead, chewing on the nozzle of his mustard, as they played with the glass. The switch from dangerous stalker to downright childish mannerisms was distinct, quick, and more than a little unsettling. Though he supposed everyone was a little fucked up, their behavior in particular continued to strike him as odd. It _almost_ felt innocent. The kid tapped the side of the glass a few times, listening to the chimes. Next, they swirled a finger around the glass’ rim. Then, picked the glass up towards their mouth.

Impulsively, Sans covered the top with his hand, shoving it loudly back down to the counter before it could touch their lips.

They didn’t put up any resistance. He sweated a little in the ensuing silence, realizing he’d moved without thinking.

Why? Fucking _why_ was he getting involved?

“Y-Yer too young fer that, too,” He grumbled, beaten by such a stupid, childish act. They quietly allowed him to slide the glass out of their reach. He skidded it further down the counter, away from them both. “Grillby,” He called reluctantly. He wanted to kick himself. “Get the kid somethin’ else an’ put it on my tab.”

The child waited patiently as Grillby poured a glass of milk in front of them. Then, the bartender left them alone yet again. Too short to reach the glass, two little arms reached across the counter, pulling the new drink close to them. Sans watched for a reaction, but they didn’t show any preference for or against their new order. They simply peered down into their glass.

“Sans the Skeleton,” The soft voice said. A finger absently rubbing into the glass. “Will you please listen to me?”

“Not this again,” He sighed, equally irritable and miserable. He felt like he’d been had. Watching them in silence made them feel like a kid. A _normal_ kid. But listening to them _talk_ completely shattered that illusion. That emotionless voice was so disconcerting.

“You’ve misunderstood,” The child continued, “No one sent me here. I don’t want your murder and I don’t want to blackmail you.”

The stocky skeleton slumped forward against the counter, propping the weight of his head on a hand as he looked down at the little cloak. He sucked impatiently on his condiment. “Just spit it out so I can turn ‘ya down already.”

“Sans the Skeleton, I want information.” They turned towards him expectantly, hood angled up like they were looking into his face, “In fact, I’ll even buy it from you.”

Sans narrowed his eyes. Was _that_ what this was all about?

Information trade could be dangerous. Sometimes what you leaked could come back to bite you. If you leaked a monster’s weakness and the buyer failed to take their target out, the survivor would inevitably hunt you down. But, if they succeeded, it could be beneficial. Especially depending on what the buyer was willing to trade for what they wanted to know, but you also had to carefully consider if you truly wanted to part with that information.

“What do ‘ya wanna know?” Sans asked gruffly, adopting a serious tone for the deal. He wasn’t going to commit to anything until he knew the details. Especially not with someone this suspicious.

“The night before last,” The cloak started heavily in the tense atmosphere, “what did you dream about?”

Sans thought he misheard them. “W-what?” He dead-panned, the nozzle slipping out of his mouth.

“Yesterday, before you woke up, what were you dreaming about?”

“That doesn’t sound like very useful information,” Sans muttered skeptically.

“Good. Then, it’ll be cheap.”

Brat.

He frowned at them, biting the top of his condiment as he looked away, considering. But he really couldn’t think of any way a dream could possibly be used against him. He wasn’t really sure why it might be valuable information at all. But this was a weird kid. “Alright, I’ll bite. Fine. But ‘ya gotta leave me alone after this.”

They nodded, “I’ll leave you alone.”

Hell, that would be payment enough. He’d tell them whatever they wanted if he could get some sleep without finding them looming over him.

He hummed, sipping the mustard, wondering aloud, “A dream, huh? What was it?” He’d woken up so abruptly he’d forgotten it quickly. Then, he’d gotten distracted by Boss’ injuries, but the dream had been weird hadn’t it? He closed his eyes trying to think.

- _Ominously flickering lights rattled on inside the–_

“I was on some kinda elevator. Maybe I was hurt or somethin’, too? It was really dark,” he mumbled.

 “An elevator? That’s all you remember?” Their grip tightened around the glass. “I’m not interested in the elevator. Was there nothing else? Anything after that? Or before?”

More? He tried to think of something else as he idly sipped the condiment.

The child waited patiently.

Had there been something else? “M-maybe,” he stuttered. It had been a really long dream, hadn’t it? He tried to picture what happened afterwards, but he was only drawing up blackness. So, he tried to remember before, mind wandering to some imagined time long ago as he forced the memory.

A jumble of mismatched thoughts spiked painfully through his head. Flashes of images out of context accompanied by some brief vivid emotion. As if someone were playing an entire movie across his mind in the whole of two seconds.

 “Gh!” He flinched up suddenly at the overload of information, dropping the mustard to hold a splitting migraine between his hands. But in the midst of all those images his mind had managed to linger on one final lasting thought:

_He didn’t mind that he was being crushed beneath larger form. He loved the feel of his weight against him and he smell of their sheets._

_It was warm and comfortable._

Sans blinked stupidly.

He felt his cheeks growing hot. Had it been that kind of dream? No way. He’d woken up screaming hadn’t he? And not _that_ kind of screaming either. His hands sunk down to obscure his reddening cheeks. Suddenly, this felt oddly personal.

“I’m paying for this,” the cloak reminded, noting his hesitation as they studied his reaction.

“Yeah, _yeah._ I know,” he caught the mustard bottle rolling across the countertop.

“As many details as you can, please.”

Thinking about it made him feel uneasy. He winced, trying to pull apart the images he’d barely seen into something coherent, but his head just throbbed painfully every time he tried to recall them. After a long silence without any progress, he realized this was a hopeless task.

“I dunno!” He complained, “I don’t really remember it! There was some kinda blue Waterfall. A-and I think I got hurt,” His hand ghosted across his chest, “But t-then I was better and I was stayin’ with someone? A-and they were really quiet,” He muttered under his breath, trying to remember but drawing up blanks.

The child sunk forward as he began to slowly talk, relaxing their head on their arms as if they were quietly listening to a bedtime story.

“The whole town was weird. It had these strange decorations everywhere. But I wanted to stay ‘cause there was this really n-nice… bed? Like _too_ nice,” Was that right? Was it a _bed_? “With orange sheets. I think I spent most of my time sleepin’. It was kinda, uh, comfy and cozy and, um,” He swallowed uncertainly, not sure what emotion he was swallowing down, “really _warm_?”

He trailed off staring ahead of him, not even sure if those facts were right. He felt like he was missing something. Something important stuck just behind his teeth that he couldn’t seem to say.

Long arms wrapping around his back. A lazy drawl humming in his ear. It was a joke. Warm fabric. Nuzzling him. Cuddling into him. A thin thumb swirling a circle absently into his arm. Because – _their sheets –_ he’d _shared_ that bed with someone, hadn’t he?

He sputtered, shoving those words down. Locked them away as his eyelights guttered out horribly into vacant sockets.

What ‘ _something important_ ’? It was a goddamn dream. That wasn’t real!

A curious face tilted their head to the side atop their arms at the corner of his vision. “Were you unhappy?” The cloaked figure asked. And that was the strangest thing they’d said to him yet.

“I–,” He came back to himself, following their voice, glancing down at his companion with reformed crimson irises. “N-no, I definitely _liked_ it…” He covered the lower half of his face with a sleeve. Was he blushing? “Heh. Uh. P-pretty dumb to dream about sleeping,” He rambled.

He caught the faintest smile tilt their usually emotionless face. “No. Not at all. That sounds like a good dream.”

“Y-yeah,” His red eyes darted off to the side, feeling embarrassed, “M-maybe it was?”

The two of them sat together in silence for a time. Sans glancing off to the side, feeling too flushed to meet anyone in the eye as he finished off the last of his mustard. The child rested their head on their arms, short legs kicking playfully off the barstool.

It didn’t last long.

“Alright then,” They scooped their order off the bar and chugged their glass of milk in one go. They slammed it back to the counter, causing Sans to jump. Then, they turned to face him, “Thank you, Sans the Skeleton, that’s all I needed to know.”

“S-Sure, kid.”

They drew a bag out of their cloak and set it in front of Sans. “For the information,” They clarified. And it looked like their entire wallet.

Sans stiffened. He wasn’t desperate enough to rob a child blind. “I ain’t takin’ money from a kid,” He argued, sliding the bag of coins back over to them before he changed his mind. “Just keep ‘yer end of the bargain. I better not find ‘ya at my station later.”

The cloak stared at him in silence for a second, before offering; “Papyrus has left for work by now. Sleep at home instead of your station. Your bed would be softer anyway, right?” with those baffling words, they took a few coins out of the bag and set them on the counter. “Grillby,” The child called down the bar to the fire elemental, “Our drinks are on me.”

Did _no one_ think he did any work? Sans wanted to protest a child paying for him, but if he said the drinks were on him instead, Grillby would no-doubt harass him to pay off his _entire_ tab –which had been accruing for quite some time. Ashamed, he looked away off to his left.

Straight into two black, beady eyes.

“Auh–“ Startled; he jumped, letting the cry die in his throat. Leaning as far away as he could from the uncomfortably close dog. It’s white head floating eerily at his side.

He barely heard the soft voice announce, “We stayed too long.”

Confused, he spun back quickly towards the kid to catch the meaning of their words, but they had already turned backwards on their barstool, facing opposite the counter. Sans followed their gaze –and the long, white neck– to the front of the bar.

“HEY, he _is_ in here!” Doggo called from the open doorway. Motioning to someone outside. The canine didn’t come inside, though. He stood in the doorway waiting. “Yo, Lesser, could you–?” He cut off, but nudged his snout towards small skeleton at the counter.

Before he could even finish registering the motion, Sans felt fur curl around him, constricting his movement. The neck pinned his arms down to the sides, wrapping twice around his thick middle. The head popped up again right over his shoulder. The beady eyes staring into his sockets. Sans leaned his head away from the freaky dog, anxiously testing the neck bind a few times.

It was surprisingly tight.

He was trapped. His arms were pinned firmly down in the hold. Elbows stuck. Only his legs were free, which didn’t do him much good since the barstool was taller than he was. Sans didn’t like being touched. Having this weird body constrict around him was extremely unsettling. “What the fuck?” He snarled under his breath, legs kicking uselessly off his stool as he tried to get out of the hold.

Yet his captors ignored him. Doggo stared at him with a hard frown as he blocked the exit, arms crossed. After some time, the dog stepped out of the way, holding the door open for someone else. The bar quieted to a still hush as a heavy presence seemed to flood across the establishment. All eyes locked on the doorway as Dogaressa entered the room, white paws tapping along the floorboards. The somber blue glow of the bar only increasing the heavy mood she seemed to carry.

Doggo fell in line behind her. Behind him, a towering mutt ducked into the doorway. Greater’s massive form bringing up the rear.

Hood low, the black-clad form ghosted across the wooden floorboards lifelessly. Head down, an unsettling sway to each step. Arms slack, dragging, not one, but _two_ large axes behind her. The metal scrapped unpleasantly across the ground as the heavy blades dug groves into the wood.

She stopped in front of his seat. Her whisper as unsteady as her footsteps.

“Where…”

But the silence hung thick. Not a soul offering a response. When she realized no one would be finishing her sentences anymore; she continued.

 “Where is he, Runt?” She asked louder, the words garbled between an enraged growl. For the quiet voice she’d asked with, it sure did seem to echo. It split straight to his core. She lifted her head just enough to look him in the eye, nothing but deep hatred searing her dark irises.

Sans flinched under the gaze alone. Unable to meet her eyes, his crimson eyelights trailed off to Doggo who stood by her side. He was still, but Sans recognized the stance. Low. Tense. He was ready for a fight. Then, his eyes trailed up above them both to Greater, menacingly towering in the back. His hulking form shadowing the backdrop was oppressive in every way. Just looking at him made a pit drop in his stomach.

Oh, fuck. He’d completely forgotten the man he killed last night had _friends_.

“W-who?”

“Dogamy…”

 “N-never saw ‘im yesterday,” Sans stuttered nervously under their scrutiny, not quite sure how he was going to charm his way out of this one, but offering his trademark smile nonetheless. He tried to keep his usual manner; light and carefree. However, no matter how fake his expression, his fearful eyes reflected off the widow’s unwavering black pupils.

“L–“ Doggo started.

“LIAR!” Dogaressa barked loudly over all of them. The roar booming around the silent establishment. Lesser squeezed him tighter as if on cue, folding his arms painfully into his sides. A cobra tauntingly constricting its prey. Something creaked in response.

Sans winced. His smile faltered.

 “I found _his_ weapon at _your_ post. _Where is he?_ ” Fangs bared, her paws tightened their grip on the axes. A steady growl increasing in the back of her throat the longer this interrogation dragged on.

He didn’t know what to say. His sweaty silence was guilt enough.

She stepped dangerously close, adjusting the axe in her right paw off the floor into a more stable hold. Ready for dust. She snarled viciously, “Did you kill him…?”

“I –“ Sans stumbled for words, leaning back from the enraged monster. What was he going to say? What _could_ he say? His eyes frantically searched her steely, black gaze. Only finding grief, hatred, and an endless wrath. “I –“

“I killed him,” A soft voice said to his side.

Abruptly, all the unyielding rage shifted away from him onto the small, cloaked child as Dogaressa and the pack turned hateful eyes onto them. The new pack leader looked the little form up and down twice, clearly underwhelmed. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, snarling viciously, “You think this is some game…?”

Sans was just as baffled as she was. Tossing a concerned glance the kid’s way.

“Everyone always asks me that.” The child responded calmly. Almost too simply. Not one emotion crossing their face as they admitted murder to their victim’s widow. Infuriatingly, the answer didn’t really constitute as an answer at all to her original question.

Dogaressa’s face twisted further in hate, glancing back disgustedly at Sans as she took in the scene, “You’re going to treat this as some _joke_?!” She glanced between them, realizing they’d been sitting together and sharing a drink. “Did you pay them off…?”

He shook his head profusely, “No, I-“ The blade’s abrupt appearance between his eyes cut off his words.

“Who is he to you?” She asked threateningly to the little form as she pointed the second axe at Sans, the point landing dangerously too close to his face. “ _Think_. Surely this filth is not worth dying over…” She concluded. “Get lost now. There’s no reason to lie for the likes of him.”

“It _was_ me,” they insisted in their soft, yet stubborn voice. Thing was, technically, the kid was right! They’d killed Dogamy, not him. Problem was, no one in their right mind was going to believe that. Dogamy had been a trained guard at an impressive level. Not Boss-level, but higher than most average monsters. He was only matched by Dogaressa. As impossible as it sounded that _Sans_ had managed to kill him; it was unthinkable someone as small and young as the cloak had ended his life.

“Is that so…” She turned a disbelieving eye towards Sans, asking sarcastically, “Did this creature kill my husband?” The mockery dripping through her voice was already damning Sans as the culprit.

Even so, Sans hesitated, unable to answer. Sure, he _should_ take the opportunity to pass the blame, but he could hardly implicate a seven year old in a murder that was directly going to get them shanked! That was almost the same as killing them himself –which, he’d unfortunately proven, he couldn’t bring himself to do.

He stuttered, sweating. Only making himself look even more suspicious.

“I killed the dog!” The cloak reminded, a hint of irritation in their quiet voice. But this wasn’t the time to use their goddamn bragging rights!

Sick of their shit, she spun on them, raising an axe towards her annoying, new target. “Then, you can die, too,” She dismissed mercilessly in a deep snarl. Her victim watched as the blade was raised up in an impressive display of strength. The sharp edge glistening in the bar’s firelight. Then, smashed down.

Sans could only watch, horrified.

The axe pulverized the counter, sending splinters and woodchips flying off in different directions. Before he could register what happened, Sans was flying off the barstool. He crashed to the ground, but Lesser had taken the brunt of the blow. A little form sitting atop his chest.

The cloak had dodged by throwing themselves at him and knocking him over.

Grillby, who’d been at the other side of the bar, was at the scene of the crime in a lick of flame. He started to flare up in rage the second his precious bar was damaged. All his fury aimed on Dogaressa, the perpetrator. Sensing danger, Doggo quickly stepped in to protect her from the dangerous elemental. Sans could hear them fighting in the background. Grillby didn’t speak, so he only heard Doggo shouting something hazy and distant because he hardly had the time to focus on that.

Dogaressa had already hauled her destructive axe free, spinning towards her prey. Hateful eyes locked onto them, she completely ignored the fight breaking out behind her. On a blind warpath, she barreled forward for another swing. 

Sans was hardly in any condition to dodge it.

The child, however, rolled left. Tangling themselves further into Lesser’s long neck. The narrow dodge saved all three of them, including Sans and Lesser, from getting chopped in half by the blow.

The halberd crashed noisily through the floor.

A yelp ensued back at the bar. Doggo undoubtedly discovering why barfights never lasted long at Grillby’s. You didn’t mess with fire elementals. As Sans peered huge sockets up from the floor he could see Greater muscling his way into the fight that took place behind his own scuffle.

Someone shouted, “Hey, Grillby says there’s no fighting in his bar!”

As another customer drunkenly yelled, “You can’t jush attack Grillshby!”

Patrons were throwing themselves into the clash. Beer muscles induced, the red bird from earlier tried to drag Doggo away, but seemed to be loosing that battle terribly. Sans caught sight of something resembling a rabbit that took a flying leap off another monster’s head onto the big oaf’s back.

That was right about the time Greater, in a stroke of genius, grabbed the nearest bottled drink and tried to smash it all over Grillby. Glass shattered. Instead of dousing the fire, like the dumb mutt had probably intended, the flame practically exploded. The boom rocked the whole building, heating the whole bar to a searing temperature. The light in the bar went wild as the fire elemental flared. The whole establishment rose in a chaotic clamor.

But Sans was watching the _wrong_ fight. Luckily, the kid, once again, yanked them out of the way as another devastating blow smashed just behind him.

Continuing a senseless destruction of the bar, Dogaressa didn’t slow. She didn’t bother prying that weapon free, she left it stuck in the ground as she spun her momentum into her next vicious swing with the other axe. She snarled savagely, “I’ll kill you both!”

Sans flinched to the left, rolling to the side just as the silver blade sunk deeply into the floorboards to his right. It missed them all by a narrow margin. By now, the kid was hopelessly tangled in Lesser’s neck. Too knotted in the fur to do all the work. But, luckily, by the third terrifying swing that nearly severed him in half, Lesser was _finally_ starting to put two and two together that _he_ was in danger as well. That axe wasn’t just going to phase through him.

He started to unwind himself from his prey before he ended up prey himself.

He only got partially loose before the furry, white cobra yelped, some patron tripping over his twisting neck somewhere further down the line. The mutt spun, seeking the offender. His short attention span easily drawn elsewhere.

Dogaressa stubbornly tried to dislodge the axes from the wooden floor as Sans and the kid attempted to squirm their way out of Lesser’s trap with the new slack as a stampede of feet rained down around them. The little skeleton didn’t have much luck as he tried to shove the dog wound around his thick middle off.

The cloak got free first.

Instead of abandoning him –which would be the wise thing to do- they grabbed his arm, kicking on the neck. With enough force, they dragged their could-have-been bait out the top of the bonds.

By the time the kid helped yank him onto his feet, the bar was in complete chaos. The whole thing had escalated. Everyone was fighting each other. Lesser was now following two drunken patrons  as they smashed over a table, locked in combat with each other. It took a moment for him to recognize the two combatants tumbling over themselves. Lesser chased the two of them as the guy whose head had been used as a springboard tried to bite the rabbit as it fled in panic. It was more terrifying than it sounded when you realized the pursuing monster was nothing but teeth.

The bar itself was an inferno, the fire elemental raging at the center as two dogs tried to pin him down. A pile of other patrons in the mix trying to pull them off. But as Grillby raged, the fire licked the wood, setting it ablaze. The burning embers spreading fast.

There was yelling and senseless screaming everywhere. Every argument drowned out among a sea of insults. Nearly a handful of separate heated battles were simultaneously going on. But Sans couldn’t just ignore the one that _he_ was in the middle of as Dogaressa stalked towards him dangerously; axes recovered. He backed up until his back met the edge of the flaming bar.

Fear struck him as he realized how cornered he was. He couldn’t fight back. Not here. If he entered the battle, his HP would be on display for the whole damn bar to see!

Then, he’d have to kill everyone in the bar. Which he wasn’t even capable of doing! What was he going to do? Panicked soul thudding, he started panting short breaths past his fangs, frantically searching for a proper exit as the executioner closed in.

A little hand caught his.

“ _Just dodge_ ,” The soft voice to his right instructed.

Bewildered, his eyes darted down to the little form _still_ at his side. Why the fuck hadn’t they run away yet?! Abandoned him, it was he smart thing to do. Their calm was somehow _still_ unshaken despite being in the center of a horribly chaotic barfight.

 “You dodge _,”_ The little hand squeezed his palm, “And I’ll be the weapon.” With their free hand, they flicked the silver knife skillfully out of their cloak. It twirled once and rested comfortably in their other hand. Their feet slid further apart as they lowered slightly in a proper stance, asking, “Ready?”

He didn’t have the time to answer as Dogaressa charged in, throwing one axe behind her and the other over her shoulder as she gained momentum. Sprinting, “I’ll chop you in half!”

The first swing came in as a wild side-swipe. Barely able to get his wits about him, they blinked out of danger at the last moment. The skeleton and the kid suddenly stood a step back, on top of the bar. They watched as the blade swished through nothing but empty air.

An excellent, trained fighter, Dogaressa never slowed. She was as quick on her feet as she was with her strategy. Her feet left the ground, spinning her body almost horizontal as she led her momentum into the next swing. Bringing the axe at the back in for a heavy overhead chop.

Sans stumbled to the left to get out of the way, nearly dragging the kid on his right directly under the blade.

Fuck! He wasn’t used to worrying about someone else as he fought!

Realizing they were trailing, he just barely managed to pull them a hair further. Their small dagger shot up, grazing against the side of the wide blade, kicking off sparks. There was no way the kid was going to beat Dogaressa in a battle of strength, but the intervention diverted the blade just slightly enough to _not_ take off their additionally trailing leg. The heavy weapon smashed through the bar as violently as the first time.

Grillby would no doubt have something to say about it if he weren’t otherwise preoccupied.

Sans, on the other hand, couldn’t believe the kid had lived! Maybe they did have a shot at this.

His distraction nearly got them both killed.

A relieved smile spread across his fangs just as the handle from the first axe, wildly swung, smacked into both their stomachs. Dogamy had _never_ moved that fast! Yet her sloppy swing had fallen too close to land a fatality. Regardless, being smacked by the staff of the halberd sent them both flying over the edge of the bar with the wind knocked out of them. Kicking off any glasses in their path to shatter to the floorboards. They smacked into shelving at the back. Raining bottles, condiments, and food around them as they landed in a heap on the other side of the counter.

Sans hazily tried to pick himself up out of the broken glass and puddles soaking into his coat. It was uncomfortable. The heat on this side was intense, but the good news was he didn’t seem to be dusting yet.

On a warpath, Dogaressa still didn’t slow. She leapt onto the counter. But the cloak, either more lucky or spry than Sans, had already recovered. They met her at the flaming bar, slashing out twice viciously with their blade. It forced her to retreat, knocking her back off the counter. They hopped onto the counter in aggressive pursuit as Sans looked on in shock.

The kid was on fire!

Literally on fire. The “puddle” they’d fallen in that was soaking their clothes was all alcohol. Highly _flammable_ alcohol. And the entire bar side was nothing but a raging inferno. Sans glanced to the side, realizing the liquid he was lying in was already starting to light.

He scrambled to his feet before the puddle went up in a blaze. His more fire resistant leather jacket seemed to be offering him some protection, but the cape the kid was wearing was already going up in flames. Before they could properly pursue their target, Sans practically tackled them over the side of the bar. They both smacked roughly into the floorboards, rolling together along the ground. When they stopped tumbling over each other, Sans smothered the kid, frantically patting out flames.

For a second they struggled, confused, on the ground beneath him. Maybe not fully understanding it was just him and not some other monster that had tackled them from behind. At least that’s what he’d thought until they’d batted away his hands enough to point over his shoulder. “Look!”

He glanced back just long enough to see the looming figure behind him. He didn’t have to think long about what that meant. He scooped the kid up and rolled them both into a shortcut.

An axe crashed into their former location.

They rolled out of the exit underneath a nearby table, Sans half pinning the smaller form beneath him. A heavy black smoke was already flooding the bar. His hope was that between the table and the lowered visibility, they’d be hidden from view. From their vantage they could see the silhouette of Dogaressa’s legs and the blade she was trying to pry out of yet another hole. The child started to eagerly crawl away, out from under the table while she was distracted.

Sans caught them by the back of the neck, dragging them back into the shadows beneath the table before they could escape with whatever reckless plan was in their head. “What the hell are ‘ya doin’?” He whispered harshly to them.

“I’m attacking.”

“What do ‘ya mean ‘yer attackin’, kid, ‘ _yer level three!_ ” He’d seen it. He’d missed it last time, too speechless as they’d stabbed Dogamy to death, but this time he’d fucking seen it! _That_ was a pretty normal level for a child. If not a bit on the high side. He’d thought by the way they acted they had some unusually high level for someone their age, but that wasn’t the case at all! They weren’t ready for this fight _at all_!

Why had he thought for even a second that this kid had some higher level? Despite all possible odds, against _all_ their misleading behavior, they happened to be a normal child. What the fuck were they doing in this bar?!

“Three is plenty.” They kid insisted.

Naïve little–

He tightened his grip on the back of their neck, if for no reason other than to hold them here. “At level three _I_ could dust ‘ya!”

The child frowned. “Sans the Skeleton, _you_ cannot attack. I can. _We_ can do this.”

“Yer gonna get yerself dusted! ‘Ya didn’t even realize ‘ya were on fire!”

“I knew you’d put me out.” They replied calmly, pretending to hold some blind, unshakable faith in him that _clearly_ shouldn’t be there.

“Do ‘ya not understand? If ‘ya stay; ‘yer gonna _die._ ”

“No, we won’t–“

“Yes, ‘ya will! ‘Yer not special or somethin’. The only thing _special_ about _you_ is yer goddamn brain!”

“Exactly.” They replied, “We’ll outsmart her. Sans the Skeleton, you are unquestionably the best at dodging. Even if my attack is low, we can wear her down. We can win.”

“I meant it was _dysfunctional_ ,” He hissed sharply, shaking them once by the scruff of their neck.

Their noisy banter was cut off as a massive axe crashed into the top of their table, snapping it in two. Luckily, the furniture’s bulk diverted the blade just enough to not take off their heads. However, their cover was in pieces before them. The safety of the shadows gone. Their hiding place lost. Their faces reflecting off the shiny metal meant to take their lives, inches away from their faces.

They scrambled back onto their feet. Sans looked up at the hateful hound snarling over him. Embers snuffed out behind her in the black fog, nearly as dark as her endless rage. Clearly she hadn’t enjoyed looking for them. “Kneel and suffer!” She barked the order down at her cornered prey, hauling another attack onto her shoulder.

Sans tried to take a step back, but the little hand caught his before he could flee. “Just dodge,” They squeezed his hand confidently in reminder.

He wasn’t taking orders from a kid; he was using common fucking sense! He pulled them both through a shortcut as the halberd swiped savagely through the air they’d been occupying.

The landed right behind Dogaressa with their backs to her.

Usually, travelling through a shortcut was confusing for a passenger. Even Boss hadn’t fully gotten used to it, but the kid didn’t appear disoriented at all. In fact, they went ahead with their stupid plan anyway! The second their feet landed, they flipped the blade in their hand around and stabbed backwards into their pursuer’s back.

She grunted. She didn’t howl in pain. Or cry. Or surrender. She _grunted._ Clearly not taking much –if any- damage from the attack. Instead, the attack just served to give away their location as she immediately spun with a brutal backwards cut.

She missed.

Sans had barely managed to pull them into their next exit, which just happened to be to her right. The skeleton didn’t have time to breathe a sigh of relief at the narrow dodge. He was spun, arm tugged as the cloak as they rushed past him. They slashed out at the hound again.

Dogaressa spun on them, eyes wild.

Sans met her damning gaze almost apologetically as he yanked the kid away from her growing wrath by their entwined hands. They tumbled backwards into his shortcut before the heavy blade returned the favor. He couldn’t help but note how much faster than Dogamy she was.

Next, they stood, balancing, on top of the back of a nearby booth. Yet his partner didn’t seem to be bothered by the precarious position. Rather, the kid seemed pretty quick to adjust to each new location. With the height advantage, the cloak took this opportunity to slash out at her face. An aggressive strike that nearly robbed her of an eye if she hadn’t turned her head at the last second. The knife cut across her forehead and snout instead. It wasn’t deep, but the faintest bit of dust trickled away.

The axe swiped in madly through the thickening smoke, a low cut skimming the top of the booth. Sans jumped over it, lifting the kid up by their pits as the metal edge swished below. The adaptable child went along with the move, spinning their knife and jamming it into the hound’s right shoulder with gravity as they came down.

Dogaressa snarled. An additional swipe soon to follow the first with the other axe. It swung in from the opposite direction.

Sans quickly wrapped his arm around the kid’s torso as he fell over the back of the booth. The two of them passing through yet another shortcut before the higher swipe could chop them in half.

They reappeared in the air, above and behind the enraged dog. As they fell past her back, the kid had the audacity to rip their dagger out of her shoulder as they passed by, retrieving the blade. Sans landed on his feet, his arms around the child’s torso as he steadied their footing.

She howled in anger more than pain, sparring a quick, furious glance over her shoulder at the detestable duo. The hound started to turn one way. Then, quickly turned the other. Her huge, heavy blades flying out in a spin.

If he hadn’t fought Dogamy he probably wouldn’t have recognized the move. Sans stumbled backwards, kid awkwardly dangling from his arms, as he tried to get out of reach of the incoming barrage. There was no way they were going to retreat fast enough. So, Sans dropped his legs out from under him. They crashed to the floor at her feet right as the whirlwind of double blades whizzed over their heads. The kid didn’t waste any time to lash out at her legs. Their sharp dagger biting deep into her ankles, causing her to yelp and abandon the move.

She stumbled and the blades smashed heavily into the ground to support her weight while she recovered.

But the kid didn’t give her time to rest, they kept slashing out at her legs. It should have been nothing more than a nuisance. Yet a quick, skilled hand kept insistently darting the knife back and forth, hacking away at her health until she was forced to go on the offensive.

“DIE!” She shrieked viciously in frustration, swinging one massive axe over her shoulder for an overhead chop.

Sans yanked the busily distracted kid back, scrambling backwards on all fours desperately. The weight in his lap slowing him down as he crab crawled away. He just barely cleared enough distance, before the axe smashed through the floorboards between their legs, sending splinters, woodchips, and debris flying up, the ground shook beneath his palms at the ferocity of the blow.

_One_ of those and they’d both be dusted!

Refusing to slow, the skeleton continued to scuttle backwards away from the attacker in fear of following attacks. The passenger on his lap didn’t make it easy as they came along for the ride. Leaving most of the ‘footwork’ to him. So absorbed in trying to survive, he barely registered the sound of the door to the wrecked establishment slamming open.

“WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?” A voice boomed threateningly from the doorway; to which not a single person in the entire bar fight stopped what they were doing for even a second.

As a second swing cracked through the floorboards to Sans’ right. He just barely tilted them enough to the side to miss the devastating blow that skimmed right next to his hand. The kid tried to lean forward, aiming to prey on her defenseless outstretched arm, but he held them back before they made any more dumb moves. He saw her raising that next deadly swing. So, one arm around the kid’s middle, he scampered away on two legs and _one_ arm as he raced to get out of her reach.

“STOP!” A voice tried to shout over the clamor. A colossal crash followed the outraged cry.

That blade missed them as well.

But they would have never made it in time without the luck of a shortcut that put them a few paces away, to the widow’s back left.

She searched frantically for them in the black haze as she hauled the axes back out of the floor. It didn’t take her long to spot them. The hooded executioner stalked towards them once more, face a mask of rage.

A red bone shot out of the ground at her feet, tripping up her pursuit. In fact, a royal _shit ton_ of crimson bones started erupting out of _everywhere._ The floor, the walls, out of thin fucking air. It felt like an earthquake was shaking the whole building so many bones were bursting through.

But not one of them were Sans’.

Ever adaptable and quick on her feet, the bone didn’t trip Dogaressa up for long. She hopped over it, charging after them. More bones shot into her path which she mostly avoided or swatted aside in her singular, enraged focus.

The child on his lap, Sans scuffled back from their relentless pursuer as bones continued to burst erratically into the fray. Yet they seemed a separate matter. Sans’ crimson irises were locked onto the hauntingly deep, black, hateful eyes that never once left his face even as she hacked the bones away, shattering them in her hunt. Dogaressa barreled on, slamming her axes one over the other in a desperate attempt to take them out before the bones caught her. But their pursuit was getting more tangled in the bones the more she tried to follow. Which should have been a good thing, but as she got closer so did the bones! The little skeleton barely managed to dodge the mixture of attacks –both the bones and her wild swings.

He scooched back once and a bone burst form the floor on their right, rocking them as it jutted forth. Yet it managed to block the axe that smashed into it that would have robbed Sans of a skull. He dragged them back again as another bone shot between his legs seconds from where they had been.

In fact, the bones were getting harder to dodge than the axes as Dogaressa became so entwined in the maze of bones that she could barely move. Yet the bones kept smashing in to consume her. Sans and the kid, practically under her, were caught in the middle of it. Nearly buried beneath a web of bones that was only increasing. Dodging them was extremely difficult. He had no idea where or from which way they were going to come from. He just blindly tried to drag them out of harm’s way.

Sensing something bad, Sans rocked back suddenly. He grabbed the kid. Smacking a palm into their face as he yanked them back into his ribcage. Just in time for a frighteningly sharp bone to burst from the opposite side of the cage, impaling the air where the child’s head _had_ been just a millisecond before. It creaked to a stop a little too close for comfort. Frozen still in terror, he panted heavily, clutching the kid into his chest cavity. A dead silence settled as he stared cross-eyed at the near lethal blow. His eyes drifted up to the furious hound trapped within the cage of bones above as she huffed and snarled aggressively, knowing they were just barely out of her reach.

She’d gotten so close to catching them, _but she couldn’t move._

It was over. The hush that settled over the scene was eerie and–

“ehe!” The form in his lap chortled before they burst into childish giggles, “Hehehe!” Laughing softly, but openly. He felt their smile press into his hand. It was the first time he’d _really_ seen them express an emotion. The rocks of the little form heaving against him somehow melted that apprehensive atmosphere away. Sans felt the tenseness drop out of his body as he flopped the rest of the way back to the floor. He let the giggling child sit on top of him.

“’Ya like that, do ‘ya?” He asked incredulously, a stupid grin working its way onto his fangs. “Yer one weird fuckin’ kid.” But he didn’t even care. He closed his eyes exhausted. As the child quieted down, one arm lazily wrapped around them as he fell into stillness. He was done. He never wanted to move again. He was content to just lie there wordlessly forever.

Until, a claw dragged them out from under the bone pile by his hood, the kid still in his lap.

Sans tensed once again. Huge, panicked sockets locked onto the disdainfully disapproving gaze of his brother. He smiled sheepishly back.

“Get up,” Boss demanded, dropping his hood. He spun to address everyone in the bar. Posture regal and proper, he projected his voice to all the bar’s beaten and tired patrons, “I shouldn’t have to tell the lot of you mongrels to get out of a flaming building! So, get the hell outside; NOW!”

 Obeying orders, Sans quickly scampered onto his feet, letting the child slip from his lap. He stood into the smoking haze of the bar. The smog a lot thicker than the sort the patrons typically caused. His crimson eyes timidly roamed around the waking destruction.

Half the tables had been knocked over in some fashion. One of them chopped in half. Lots of new axe-shaped potholes in the establishment’s floorboards which were littered with broken glass or ruined food. As his eyes trailed along the density of broken glass towards the bar, he noted the missing shelf they’d knocked over. They’d single handedly taken out a good half of Grillby’s stock. The rest of the stock at the back half of the building was intensely engulfed in flames, but the thick, black smoke that had been obscuring his vision was beginning to escape through a fresh new hole in the ceiling. Light shone into the usually dim bar, bathing a snow pile that had caved in with the roof in a sparkling sheen. The unbearable heat was melting the ice quickly.

Doggo was trying to drag Greater out of the avalanche, but the dog was too massively heavy. However, the red bird and horse successfully hauled an unconscious, dimly burning Grillby out of the snow. Sans’ soul hitched as they dragged the bartender past him to the exit, supporting his arms behind their necks. His long legs trailed behind. He wasn’t moving. His flames nothing more than a shallow, low spark that was barely staying ignited.

Of the original patrons, Lesser, the drunken rabbit and the jaw were suspiciously missing, but the large front window was also broken out from the inside. So, he didn’t have to wonder long about how they’d exited the building. Although, their whereabouts remained unknown.

Boss was standing nearby in his complete uniform, disdainfully watching the pathetically slow hustle of the bar’s inhabitants. Impatiently tapping his foot, as the flames continued to spread at the back of the building.

Sans looked back down at his feet to the dirty, soot-covered face obscured by a cloak. They had stopped laughing. Now, they were coughing slightly instead. That’s when he realized everyone else, except Boss and him, who relied on lungs were probably being slowly deprived of oxygen as the fire seized hold of the building. He also realized, with a twist to his soul, that was also probably why the kid had felt so limp in his arms during the last stretch of the fight. He offered a hand, pulling the little one up from the floor. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s go.”

He steadied them on their feet, not bothering with the door as he ported them both directly outside. They stood with the rest of the patrons, watching the black smoke rise off the top of the wooden building. It wasn’t long before Doggo came out, practically crushed beneath Greater as he tried to support his hulking weight. Boss pulled up the rear, dragging a weaponless Dogaressa out of the building by a crushingly tight hold around the back of her neck.

As he marched forward he commanded, “You two!” Snapping a sharp gaze on the bird and horse “Don’t sit around! Go take Grillby to the Lab in Hotland and see if you can get him reignited.”

The two hastily scrambled away, dragging Grillby’s lip form with them.

Boss stared hard after their backs until he was sure they were going, then he whipped his icy gaze back on the rest of the mongrels lined up in the snow outside. He practically threw Dogaressa, who was clearly injured, forward towards her comrades. She staggered unsteadily through the snow. Greater and Doggo caught her halfway, helping steady her shaky footing.

Seeing her weak now, Sans had to wonder how many of those bones had actually stabbed her. Had to wonder how many of those red attacks had stabbed her _and_ _still_ she chose to chase them down, anyway. What else would put her in that state? Him and the kid hadn’t done that much damage. She’d hunted them down to an inch of her life. A chill ran down his spine. And, _even then_ , as she’d heaved furiously tangled in the bones at the end, she had looked down at them like she wanted to abandon it all just to strangle them.

Boss paced forward, interrupting his thoughts. He looked at them each critically, dropping a heavy mood upon the group. It felt like he was going to lash out at any one of them any second. “This conduct is unacceptable of the Royal Guard! _One of you,_ ” He hissed, voice low and chilling, “Explain.”

The dogs all frowned when his gaze fell on them, their fur bristling. Yet no one talked. None of them wanted to explain how they’d incited a riot.

When Boss shifted his gaze onto Sans, he also abruptly averted his gaze to his sneakers. He didn’t want to explain to the Lieutenant that he was now one guard down.

Boss paced along their line. Scornful eyes inspecting each withering solider intently. The longer the silence dragged on, the more it felt like the first person who spoke would get the reward of a quick death while the rest of them would suffer through theirs.

It was some random fish monster, who happened to be in the center of their lineup, who Boss hadn’t even _addressed_ , that spoke up first as the towering form passed him by. Scared shitless by Boss’ presence alone, he blubbered, “The pack was going to kill Sans, but then Dogaressa smashed the counter so Grillby got into the fight then everyone else got into-the-fight-and-then-the-bar-caught-on-fire-and-then-you-took-the-roof-out-and- _please-don’t-dust-me_! I was just trying to help Grillby!” He vomited information everywhere, clearly more than the dogs wanted Boss to know. The look the three of them shot the fish could kill.

Noticing their expressions, he blubbered, “W-whatever! I’m out of here! I’m not getting dusted over this!” Then, he waddled away into the snow as if he were running for his life. Everyone let him go. Any one of them could have caught him at that slow pace, but they all maintained their formation.

The look the dogs had given the blabbermouth may have been worthy of murder, but the look Boss shot the three of them was worthy of genocide. He summoned a long, red bone sword in his hand.

“He killed _Dogamy_!” Dogaressa accused brutally, waving a paw towards Sans. She could barely stand on her own, only being held up by the other two, but when Boss’ deathly stare fell on them, she easily stepped in front to shield the other two.

Boss spun around, his dreadful gaze falling onto Sans. “Did you?” He punctuated the question.

“Nope,” He replied automatically. He could swear his eyes were magnetically drawn to Boss’.  He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. Those disapproving, crimson eyes darted down for the briefest second to his hand, where a little fist was still squeezing onto his palm. If the kid got caught with him, they were going to get dragged into this.

“’leggo, kid,” Sans muttered under his breath between his fangs.

They didn’t.

“Liar!” Dogaressa snarled, causing Boss to look back at the dogs.

“Even that kid with him said they’d dusted Dogamy!” Doggo added.

Ah. There it was.

Boss looked back, again. This time his scorn falling upon the little cloak.

The soft voice began, “I only said I killed him because I owe Sans payment. When you all came in ready to dust him, I took the chance to pay off my debt.” It probably didn’t help that they sounded like they were reciting their answer from a piece of paper.

Actually, considering they were the _real_ murderer, it was probably a good thing their voice was so damn hard to read! You couldn’t even pick apart the lies.

All the dogs growled in disapproval. A dangerous choir.

“My husband was out late in Snowdin Forest yesterday. _Sans_ was the last person who went out that way. You can’t tell me you ‘ _didn’t see him’_!” Dogaressa quoted, jeering his way.

He could tell Boss was getting sick of spinning between their arguments. His grimace was so tight his skull could crack. The towering, black-clad skeleton locked eyes with him in a final threat. “What. Happened,” he demanded, tone flat.

“I–“

The little hand squeezed his.

Were they telling him not to forget to mention them or were they begging him not to mention them? Not even the crazy kid wanted to use their “bragging rights” here, right? If he told the truth he’d get them killed. Probably get _both_ of them killed with one wrong word.

No _pressure_.

“Ok, l-look,” Sans sighed heavily, eyes down on his sneakers shamefully. “After I left the bar yesterday, I took a shortcut out ‘ta my post. When I got there, Dogamy was already injured – _really_ injured. He was lyin’ in the snow; dustin’. But _I dunno who did it_. I heard someone shufflin’ around in the trees, so I panicked. I booked it ‘outta there. Whoever it was came after me, too. They got a few stabs in the back ‘o my coat before I got away, but it was dark. They weren’t aimin’ ‘fer a skeleton. After gettin’ away, I stayed out late ‘ta loose their trail.”

“Bullshit! Your coat’s fine!”

“ _Lies_!”  

“Why didn’t you report this the second you got home.” Boss snarled.

“It d-didn’t seem like the right time ‘ta interrupt ‘ya, Boss. You an’ the Captain seemed ‘ta have a lot on ‘yer minds.” He smiled timidly up at him, nervously sweating. “Plus, m-monsters dust all the time. Thought Dogamy had just made the wrong enemy.”

“My husband didn’t have any enemies like that…” Dogaressa denied, offended.

Sans shrugged, “So? Then, someone’s out huntin’.” He finished the logical thought, “Monsters d-dust all the time.”

“I’ll dust _you_.” She fumed, but her pack held her back from a near uproar. Wise enough to not let her take a stab at Sans in front of the Lieutenant.

“EVERYONE, SHUT UP!” Boss roared over them, clearly at his wits end trying to sort this all out. Bones erupted from the snow at his outburst, shaking the ground. Their formation was disrupted as all the participants stumbled out of line to dodge the surge of anger. Papyrus didn’t hit _lightly_ , not even when he hit accidentally. Everyone was so terrified they’d get dusted by the attack; they all quieted. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm down. The bones crumbled away.

“We’ve got more urgent matters to attend to at the moment,” He concluded in a calmer, but strict voice. He spun to the pack, addressing them officially, “I’m tasking the three of you with putting out this blaze you started before it burns down the rest of the town.” He jutted a thumb towards the still flaming building. “In the meantime, **_I_** will look into the aforementioned matter and you are _not_ allowed to make any baseless assumptions again!”

All the dogs stiffened. Not one seemed happy with that order.

Their disobedience didn’t go unnoticed.

“YOU HAVE YOUR ORDERS! SO, DUST OR GO!” He fumed, a red flame flaring from his sockets when none of them moved. The two dogs pulled Dogaressa, whose hateful gaze wouldn’t leave Sans, before they all scattered. And if they were smart, they’d listen, too. That left the two of them alone with the raging aftermath that was Papyrus’ temper. Chillingly slow, he turned a taut disapproving grimace onto him. His eyes still smoldering embers in the flames’ absence. In a low, terrifying voice, he beckoned, “Sans, _you_ are to come with me.”

It was something in the tone.

He flinched. Skull ducking to hide in his furred hood. Which, of course, meant he didn’t immediately obey.

Boss took a terrifying step towards him in the snow, arm reaching out to snag him roughly by the coat.

But a cloak blocked him.

The child had finally let go of his hand and they’d decided the best place for them to stand at this exact moment was between Sans and Boss. Their brain really was _special._

“No,” was all they said.

Boss scoffed at them. Too pissed to truly be amused. “Just because you put your grubby hands all over him, doesn’t mean he’s yours. Do you even know how much that thing behind you costs, _child_?” Papyrus asked condescendingly.

“Four thousand gold,” the cloak answered automatically.

Sans blanched. Half at their rash audacity and half at the listed price. Who the hell would pay that? That couldn’t be right. Since when had his asking price been that high? More importantly, how did they know that? _He_ didn’t even know that.

“Is that an offer?” Boss sneered. His voice falling deeper into that low, sinister tone.

The cloak paused. “No.”

Sans couldn’t blame them. He wouldn’t even buy himself for a _fraction_ of that amount.

 “Then get lost,” Boss demanded, reaffirming his grip on the deadly red sword in his other hand.

“No.” They repeated the Lieutenant’s least favorite word.

Dumb kid didn’t even know when they were in danger. Sans could tell Boss was two seconds from cutting them down. It was written all over his stance, his face, his voice. Papyrus had no more patience to give. The next thing that tested it was going to get dusted.

“Thanks ‘fer the drink, kid,” Sans cut in, plopping a skeletal hand down on top of their hood. He rubbed down into their scalp as he walked past them, until their head had been shoved down into their shoulders. He went to go stand next to Boss, taking his place at his brother’s side. He slipped his hands into his pockets, shrugging his shoulders, “But a deal’s a deal. ‘Ya stay the hell away from me from now on.”

The cloak held the top of their head, frowning at him. Although, they were _usually_ frowning, weren’t they? That lifeless expression and all…

“Let’s go,” Boss ordered in a final tone, patience long gone. He spun on his heel and walked away, kicking up snow as he plowed ahead.

Sans followed, matching his pace to trail just behind the towering skeleton’s long gait. After several paces, he looked back over his shoulder at the kid, but this time, they weren’t following. They actually got further away as he walked away from them. Their lone silhouette shrinking in the distance. He turned his eyes forward to the long legs pacing ahead. Boss had his proper, black pants back on. It was hardly noticeable, but Sans could see the seam where he’d sown the cuts back up. Knowing Boss was using them instead of trashing them made his perma-grin quirk up the slightest bit on his fangs.

 “Hey, B-Boss?” Sans stuttered out when they were well out of earshot. He knew this thing was going to nag him until he got an answer.

“What?” The black clad skeleton hissed back. Voice curt and unamused.

“Is.. Is that really my askin’ price?” The towering skeleton didn’t turn around, but he felt tension from Boss. Along with a sudden, overwhelming urge to explain himself. “I-I mean, it j-just seems a bit high, is all. I d-don’t think anyone wou-”

Boss spun on him then. Angrily. “Shut up.”

Sans did. His jaw snapped closed.

“We agreed _I’d_ pick the price,” Papyrus narrowed his eyes. “So, don’t you _dare_ go lower,” he threatened in his low, dangerous voice.

Sans nodded quickly in agreement. He’d dodged so many blows today; he didn’t want to try his luck.

Content with his silence, Boss turned back around, marching off towards the house. Sans fell in line behind him, speechless.

Did that mean he _was_ still on the market?

His eyes naturally fell to his sneakers as he walked. Looking down at himself, he realized now that he was filthy. Rolling around on the bar’s floor hadn’t done his clothes any favors. The stench of heavy alcohol wafted off his winter coat. The kind that had soaked and set into the fabric. Lots of broken shards and stains had smeared themselves into the leather and his shorts. No doubt he’d been rolling over food as well as glass. He’d even apparently put his hand in ketchup at some point. Some of the condiment was still stuck onto the side of his hand. He shook it off, keeping pace with Boss.

The red liquid fell from his hand, staining the snow behind them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter:  
> Drinking with Sans fills Frisk with determination.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
> 
>  
> 
> Fun spoilery fact of the genocide route:  
> Did you know that if you kill Dogamy and Dogaressa in a different order they have different reactions? I always thought that was a nice touch~


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHANGELOG: Minor updates to Chapter 11  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> Mandatory Recap:  
> The Snowdin community shared this really touching bonding moment over a bonfire. They're all basically besties now.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

When they neared the front door, Boss clenched a talon around the back of Sans’ neck and lead him through the door with little regard to their varying gaits. Practically shoving him into the house. He slammed the door behind them, locking it. However, the claw didn’t release Sans once they were safely inside. A clear sign that he was in big trouble.

Sans’ crimson eyes immediately shifted off to the side searching for an exit, but Boss tightened his grip on his spine until he was forced to wince his attention back to the towering skeleton.

“The truth,” Papyrus demanded firmly.

 “I t-told ‘ya! ” He recounted, “Dogamy was-”

Boss’ claws dug painfully into that sensitive spot at the back of his vertebrae causing the small skeleton to hunker down into his jacket. “ _Sans_ ,” His cold voice dripped with a dangerous warning. “Don’t think I don’t know you well enough to know when you’re lying.”

The hand kept clamping down on his fragile vertebra until he feared it might give way.

“I-I fought ‘im, alright!” He confessed against the pressure. He struggled against the claw at his neck, but it held firm. “When I got out ‘ta my p-post yesterday, Dogamy attacked me first. He saw my health, Boss.”

He was well aware what that meant.

Papyrus’ face tightened. Alarmingly, so did his grip.

The strengthened pressure just made Sans speak in an even more panicked manner. “S-so I was gonna kill ‘im. We fought and I was winnin’, but,” How did Boss know when he was lying? Was it a stutter or his eyes or –he tried to keep everything perfectly straight and normal. Looking straight into Boss’ glare looming over him, “Then, he got away from me. I tried to hunt ‘im down, but when I found ‘im, he was already dustin’. The rest of it’s true! I swear!”

He failed. He couldn’t look Boss in the eye long enough. His gaze tilted off to the side towards the end. His brother was obviously pissed. Boss pinched his cheeks between his other talons, roughly turning Sans back to face him. Sans cringed between the grip on his vertebrae and his cheeks being pressed sharply together. He tensed waiting for the retaliation he’d receive for lying twice.

“Draw your weapon,” Boss’ icy tone commanded.

He didn’t have to tell him twice. Sans did exactly what was asked of him. Summoning his bone club into his hand, but it hung limply at his side. Even now, he wouldn’t use it to defend himself.

“With intent,” Boss corrected in annoyance.

Sans shifted uncomfortably on his sneakers. Awkwardly, he raised his club like he _might_ hit Boss, but he knew he never would.

Boss checked him.

 “You didn’t gain any level or experience,” The other muttered in consideration.

Thank the stars he didn’t land that last blow on Dogamy.

The grip holding Sans suddenly slipped away, releasing him. The smaller skeleton fell out of the hold, visibly relieved to be free. He rolled his shoulders, rubbing the back of his neck. Trying to will away the lingering pain there. He could swear Boss didn’t know how hard his grip was sometimes. He also let the weapon dissipate immediately. On his current low reserves, summoning magic was just a burden.

However, he was confused Boss had let him go at all. “’Yer n-not mad?” He asked. The question escaped between his fangs before he could think logically. He spared a quick glance up, too, but immediately his crimson eyes fell back down.

Of course, Boss was pissed. As was his usual state. He might be free, but the towering form was fuming down at him. His voice lashed out in anger. “Mad is an understatement. If you had told me _last night_ we could have done something before the dogs caught your scent,” Papyrus spat loathingly. “So? This attacker, who were they?”

“Didn’t see ‘im, Boss. It was too dark.” His eyes sunk to the tall, red boots which were tapping impatiently.

“You just _ran_?” Boss asked disgustedly. As if that course of action directly offended him.

“Yeah…” He replied, eyes dejectedly glued to the floorboards. He couldn’t think of a better lie.

“Fucking useless!” Boss berated. One boot slammed down in anger. A second later a glove slammed into the side of Sans’ head, causing him to flinch. Since he wasn’t looking at him, he never saw it coming, but luckily the blow didn’t knock the small, unprepared skeleton to the ground. It just rocked his skull, leaving behind a growing sting. “The attacker probably saw your health, too! Now they know your stats!”

Rubbing the new ache in his cheek, he muttered, “S-sorry, Boss.” Because they _had_ seen. They _did_ know. But Sans was letting the kid go. He’d already decided he was going to let them live.

Boss, however, was furious over the prospect. He started pacing vigorously. Sans watched him go. He’d clearly lost his temper. The stocky skeleton stood perfectly still as Boss paced a hole into the floorboards at a fervent speed. The little one turned his head to watch him circle around, becoming more nervous as his brother’s rage grew the longer he paced. He was keenly aware he was right in the center of that storm. “The dogs aren’t just going to let this go. They’ll want dust for dust,” The towering figure growled between his long strides, working out thoughts, plans, and schemes to fix this mess.

But, certainly, even he realized how hopeless the situation really was.

Sans had done everything just shy of actually murdering Dogamy. He was more to blame for his death than his actual killer. Even if the dogs learned the truth, they’d probably still come after him for his hand in their member’s murder. The only difference would be that they’d go kill the kid, too. Plus, with someone out and about who actually knew the devastating truth about his HP; it was only a matter of time before someone else finished him off instead.

It wasn’t long before Boss just screamed out in frustration, “This would be so much easier if you’d just–” He grabbed the front of Sans’ coat and pulled him forward until their skulls were a few inches apart. The smaller’s feet dangled just above the floor. “You are to _never_ lie to me again,” He instructed in a dark, terrifying voice.

Afraid of using the wrong words, Sans just shook his head vigorously.

“We’ll deal with your punishment later.” Boss threw him backwards, discarding him. Sans knocked roughly against the floor, skidding backwards on his elbows across the floorboards until the friction of his leather jacket slowed him to a stop. He heaved himself back up into a sitting position.

Boss had already turned his back on him, red cloak dancing on his way out the door. He yanked the front door open so hard Sans thought he’d rip the hinges off.

A sinking feeling hit his gut, knowing he was walking back out into that chaos.

“B-Boss,” Sans called out timidly, hand outstretched to stop him before he could storm away. The smaller stiffened when Boss’ livid, red eyes fell back to him, glaring down at him past a pointed shoulder pad. But he had to warn him before he went out, so he struggled out the words, “I don’t think D-Dogamy attacked me ‘fer _me._ I think his real target was ‘ta get ‘ta _you.”_

Boss just turned his back on him like that was old news. “Then it was a poor decision,” He spat. “Stay here before you embarrass me any further today.” With those final words, he slammed the door shut behind him shatteringly loud. It shook on its hinges.

Sans was left alone in the dark living room in the wake of the outburst. He found himself staring at the door for a few seconds, expecting Boss to come back in, but he didn’t. He was alone.

He sighed. It wasn’t like he couldn’t see where Boss was coming from, but he could swear that temper of his was getting worse and worse every day. Part of him was worried what trouble Papyrus might get into while he was out, but mostly he was just relieved he was gone.

So, he didn’t go after him.

 Finally, he relaxed, hand falling back into his lap. In the silence, his thudding soul finally began to slow. Gradually, as he hobbled back onto his feet, he became aware of the aches and pains he’d received today. He felt dreadfully low on magic which was driving him towards exhaustion. Plus, there were a ton of small remnants left over from the barfight which needed to be taken care of.

First, he patted down his legs, trying to shake free what broken glass he could from his shorts. After a thorough run down, he squatted, hugging his knees close. Diligently, he picked more tiny shards out of his tibias, flicking them to the floor after dislodging them. Something red oozed down the bone. Every time he tried to wipe it away, it just returned. After a few tries he realized the substance was leaking from his hand, not his leg.

Mesmerized, he watched the red drip to the floor for a few seconds, then tried wiping it away. The opaque liquid just stained his jacket, then returned. When that failed, he summoned a tongue, attempting to lick it away. It didn’t taste flavorful like ketchup or sauce. The substance had a smooth, slightly sour, yet almost metallic taste. Obviously, that didn’t fix the problem any longer than the sleeve did, but since it didn’t appear poisonous he just stuck the side of his hand in his mouth so he wouldn’t drip any more on the floor as he made his way upstairs.

Once in his room he found the first aid kit in his closet. Sans sat down, opening the box there. His hand stung, but when he inspected it, although there was a small groove on the side of his palm, there wasn’t any dust to be found, so it couldn’t be that dangerous. He quickly wrapped some gauze sloppily around his hand to prevent the abnormality. He didn’t know how else to get it to stop leaking, but he figured this would have to do for now. He didn’t have the energy to do anything else with it.

He still felt tired from this morning. Couple that with the battle; he was downright exhausted. He glanced to the side towards his mattress on the floor. If Papyrus wasn’t here to wake him up, he could sleep in his own bed like the kid had suggested.

The thought of the brat had him pause.

They’d been a weird kid. Everything from their mannerisms to their speech and reactions just screamed out of place, but somehow he’d managed to fall into a pretty quick rhythm with them once they’d started talking. He couldn’t believe he’d told them so much about his dream. Or tried so hard to remember it in the first place. He could have just made something up instead. He should have done that!

The fact they were willing to pay so much for seemingly stupid information was particularly unsettling. Or the fact that they were willing to get chopped up by the dogs in return for what they had learned. Or had that part they said about debts at the end just been another lie? It all didn’t fit. They could have just clearly been insane, which seemed a logical conclusion considering their behavior, but he couldn’t shake the feeling they had really, truly valued the information he’d given them.

Which only an insane person _would_ value that sort of thing right? There wasn’t any worth in it. It was just a dream after all! Something stupid his unconscious mind had made up.

He tried to shake away the remainder of the memories as he crawled onto his mattress sitting on the floor. Sans found himself curling into the dirty covers, huddling into the warmth.

_Their sheets._

Fuck, the thought could drive him mad. He _really_ should have just made something up. Dreams were dreams and they didn’t mean anything. So, there was no use worrying over it. He quickly tried to ignore that lingering thought, but he couldn’t stop himself from falling asleep seconds after his head hit the mattress. Strange thoughts still fresh in his mind.

 

 

 

 

_Papyrus was smiling at him._

_Not one of the sly, you’re-about-to-hate-this smiles. A genuine, soul-stopping smile brimming with some emotion that made his metaphorical stomach flip in all the right ways. He was also very, very close. Lying on top of him, in fact. Their faces just inches apart._

_He realized it was_ him _who was holding the other so close. Yet he didn’t let go._

_“don’t get cocky,” The tall skeleton teased, slipping out of San’s grip. He sat back, grabbing San’s legs on the way. He spread them apart, rubbing his long shaft against San’s twice more, before he lined his vibrant erection up lower. Rubbing against the small puckered hole towards the back of his pelvic inlet._

_Sans felt a delirious rush of excitement. Eagerly anticipating all of Papyrus’ movements._

_They were apparently stark naked on his bed. A situation that baffled Sans to no end. Both of them had formed all the necessary parts. Both panting. Both flushed. Not exactly how Boss usually ran things. Yet even more baffling; the other stopped before he did anything. Papyrus looked back down at him, almost as if he were waiting for permission._

_Permission?_

_What did he want him to say?_

_Agree to fuck his brother?_

_It bothered him more that he felt so inclined to say yes._

_Crimson flooded San’s face. He fell back to the mattress, one arm draped over his sockets, the other hand digging into the sheet. Whatever was going on had him burning up more than he’d ever been. He was rock hard. His bones were on fire. This was as bad as any heat he’d ever been in. So why did_ this _heat, compared to all his others, feel so safe and warm and fucking… special?_

He wanted this one. _He knew he did._

_Why did he want this? He shouldn’t with his brother. He never has. He never did! But right now... He wanted the person holding him now. More than he could form into words._

_Hand still over his sockets, he grit his teeth. He already had an answer._

_Wordlessly, he shook his head vigorously in approval._

_Papyrus pushed his way inside, stretching the magic of the taut asshole. Pressing ever in. Sans gasped as it forcibly sucked him in, accepting the new pressure buried between his thighs. The invasion stopped for a brief second as Papyrus’ hands ran up his femurs. He firmly grabbed onto Sans’ nicked iliac crests, using the hips to shove himself even further within the small skeleton. Sans writhed beneath him. He’d forgotten how goddamn long Papyrus was._

_“nn! -Uuhn.” He gagged on air, gripping the sheets, as Papyrus buried himself deep._

_Sans could feel him inside. Throbbing. Burning. He trashed. He tensed at every little twitch he felt within him. A wandering thumb rubbed along the crest of his hip, trying to relax him._

_“hey, hey,” Papyrus’ soothing voice purred contentedly, calling Sans’ quickly fogging mind back to him. Sans felt him lean forward, the length buried in him tilting._

_And he was done._

“Nnn!” Sans moaned into his sheets, twisting violently into the covers, arms searching. But there was no one for him to hold onto. The dirty sheets didn’t hug him back. Nor give him the company he wanted. Even so, the ghosting sensation remained vivid in his mind. His soul was still pounding painfully, aching in longing like an important piece had just been ripped from it. Breathless, he rolled over on his mattress, trying to shake off the sleep-induced illusion. When he felt a very real problem.

A wet dream.

Except it had failed to properly do the “wet” part and insomnia had left him with a rather eager boner instead. He lifted his head just enough to peer at the tent in his pants, before he flopped back down to the bed miserably. Shouldn’t he be too tired for this? He certainly felt tired.

He grabbed his throbbing head.

What was wrong with him? This wasn’t how that nightmare usually went. That was less of a nightmare and more of a –well, it bothered him more than a nightmare did. And why _Papyrus?_ It was true he loved his brother, but not _like that_ ; no matter what they’d done in the past.

Never like that.

He shook the stained memory out of his head. Dreams were dreams and they didn’t mean anything. Dreams were dreams and they didn’t mean anything. Dreams were dreams and they didn’t mean _shit_.

However, the erection didn’t believe him. It wouldn’t just will itself away like he wanted it to. Insisting it had felt something it desperately wanted more of.

Fuck. If it wasn’t going away; there was only one way out of this. He banged his head against the mattress, a pitiful whine wheezing its way past his fangs. He was so hard it literally hurt. Leaving it alone was not an option.

Guiltily, he draped one arm over his eyes, inadvertently mimicking his position in the dream as he slipped the other hand beneath the elastic waist of his pants. He timidly ran one finger up the length of his penis, still throbbing in betrayal, before he awkwardly wrapped his whole hand around the base of the offending appendage.

It was okay. He just had to think of anything else.

Hand still draped over his sockets, he squeezed his eyes shut, fangs grit. Feeling like he’d rather be anywhere else, he began pumping his own dick. Slowly at first, shamefully tracing a loose skeletal fist up and down the length. But it wasn’t long until that lingering lust took over, greedily thriving on the friction and attention he provided. Soon those reservations he’d rightfully held had fallen away and nothing was left but the black of his sockets and the quick, tight tugs his own hand treated him to.

He’d pull. He’d pant. He’d reset his hand.

Don’t think of anything.

Another pull. Another pant. His hand was at the base again.

It didn’t mean anything. “Nnm.”

He pulled. He moaned. He tried to twist his hand around the base.

How did Papyrus usually do this again?

Fuck. That wasn’t what he’d mea– He didn’t slow. He was already into it. A jerk. A gasp. He danced his fingers up his length.

His jaw quivered, fangs parting. Something like that? No, that wasn’t quite the sensation that was haunting him.

A tug. A breath. He fumbled with his pants. He slipped his other hand under the band, shimmying his hips until his shorts had fallen enough for his erection to spring free. Hand pumping the thick, heated shaft against the cooler air.

That wasn’t it either.

He had rubbed himself against him and then– Sans’ other hand drifted lower. Below the scrotum and a little further down. He was too lost searching for the right combination of sensory pleasures to think of much else. His legs fell wide. He swirled a shy finger around the puckered hole at the back of his pelvic inlet. Then, slipped it inside. Not deep. But he set an itching pace that melted away his initial embarrassment. Yes. That was the ghosting sensation he was missing.

“Mmnn~” His hips eagerly met his hands at both ends. “A-Ahn.”

That was it. Much closer to the dream. If he just imagined more warmth and something heavy pinning him down.

_Papyrus was smiling at him._

He flinched, twitching. Close.

Fucking hell! The image alone got him closer than he cared to admit. But he couldn’t seem to do something so deplorable even in the most desperate, lust-blasted state of his mind. The Papyrus he pictured wasn’t even really Boss. His teeth were blunter. The face was a bit softer. Not his Papyrus, but the smile was flawless.

Maybe that’s why he felt it was okay to continue.

He picked up the pace, panting heavily. “Ahh. Haah.” Hands working so diligently he wondered if it was possible to rub his magic raw. His hips worked in time, amplifying the sensation. The lie. The words he didn’t want to say were resting just behind his whimpering fangs. “P-ahhn. Pah-Pa. nh. Papyru- _nngh_!”

_Damnit._

With an involuntary twitch, he came disgracefully all over his hand. Leaking cum everywhere. He let it drip off the bone. The following elation he should have felt crashed down quickly. Before he had time to reflect on a new self-low, his thoughts were interrupted. Echoed by a voice that resounded from the door.

“Disgusting.”

He recognized it instantly. The voice might as well have been a direct, fatal blow to his soul.

“As usual,” it added.

He didn’t even have time to flick the condemning evidence off his hand. Even exhausted, Sans practically jumped out of the covers. “Pa-B-Boss!” He didn’t understand why his brother was back so soon. He was the last person he wanted to catch him right now! He tried to throw the sheets he’d knotted himself into over his spent erection that had been openly on display. “W-What’re ‘ya doin’ in my room?”

“I’m waking you up for the shift you’re late for,” Papyrus raised a skeptical brow, watching him fumble with the sheets as if the notion of being shy around him was absurd.

Because it was.

Also, ‘ _the shift he was late for_ ’? Sans could only stare back with dumbfounded confusion, letting the time of day sink in. It was morning? The sheet that retained his soiled decency slipped away from him. How could it already be the next morning? He didn’t feel rested _at all_!

“However, I can see you have decided to work on something else today,” The figure at his door stated sarcastically.

Sans reddened, but a retort caught in his throat. Instead he blanched for the words that might redeem himself. “S-Sorry Boss, I’ll head out right now.” Aware of the eyes watching him, he hitched up his pants _while_ he made a frantic break for the exit. No matter how sticky he felt, he was just thankful he’d slept in his clothes so he could leave this very instant.

Boss caught him by the hood.

“Not so fast,” His voice dripped with honeyed malice. Almost amused at Sans’ flustered behavior. “Have you forgotten you still haven’t received any punishment for your deplorable behavior yesterday?”

He felt his face was too red hot to turn around. He hunched into the furred rim of his coat, desperately wanting to escape from this hellish embarrassment. Wasn’t that punishment enough?

“R-right now? Ain’t I a-already late ‘fer my shift?” He bargained. He tried to walk ahead, but that poor excuse hardly excused him. Boss yanked him backwards, away from the stairs. The little skeleton slammed into the hallway wall, a tall dark-clad figure blocking his exit.

“You’re stupid if you think I’m letting you out of the house while you’re in heat,” The amusement from his voice was gone. Only a familiar, bitter scolding remained as the figure towered over him.

Sans reddened even more. “I-I ‘ain’t in heat!” He protested, eyes glancing shamefully away the second they met his brother’s piercing red gaze and sharp features.

Boss raised a skeptical brow. “Oh. You aren’t?” He asked in a dead, unconvinced voice.

Sans sort of wished he was. Then, he wouldn’t feel so damn guilty. He could have an excuse for his actions. M-maybe he was? He’d had a wet dream –and he never had those. But if he _were_ in heat, surely, he’d still be in a lustful high and the shame wouldn’t be eating away at him right now.

“I’m not…,” He admitted. The confession only made him feel worse. What the fuck was wrong with him? How could he dream that in sane mind? He sunk dejectedly against the wall.

A heel slammed against the empty spot between his legs, ceasing his downward decline. Boss pressed the toe of his red boot against Sans’ groin, nudging against the pelvis. It wasn’t vacant. His magic had yet to deform. His dick was still there.

The little skeleton immediately doubled over the leg. One hand weakly grasping on the ankle, as the foot pinned him to the wall, pressing on that sensitive area he’d just rubbed raw. “B-Boss,” he hissed out in protest between his fangs.

The dominating figure studied his reaction. “Then, why’s it still there?” He demanded.

Good point.

Why _was_ it still there? Under normal conditions, his magic should have dissipated after he’d satisfied it. In a heat, where he craved insatiable lust, it would have stuck around a lot longer to offer lots of attempts during the mating period. But he was certain he didn’t feel like he was in a heat now. If he were, he’d be lusting after all the attention he could get. Right now, he just felt like the shit of the world to have thought anything lewd of his brother in the first place. If it wasn’t lust he was after, why hadn’t it gone away?

“I-I dunno,” he stammered out.

“What did I say about lying to me?” Boss snapped, pressing harder against his groin in retaliation.

“F-f-fuck,” Sans gasped out. His legs tried to wrap protectively around the sensitive area, but they just squeezed the boot between them instead. Without his legs properly under him, he fell more heavily into the shoe. Resulting in more gasps as he tried to regain his balance, flushing the whole time. He even grabbed onto the front of Boss’ shirt to try and hold himself up.

Boss watched him struggle with a mix of cruel detachment and complete attentiveness. “Pathetic,” He concluded after it was clear Sans couldn’t get a reign on his own emotions. He rocked his ankle, swirling the boot against his crotch just to be an ass. Sans yelped in response. “First, I have to spend all night fixing your messes. Then, you left another huge mess of glass on the living room floor. Next, you don’t even come into work. And now you’re openly lying to me? After I explicitly told you not to do so?”

The boot was just too distracting, nudging the bulge in his shorts.

“C-Cut it out! I ain’t-“ He started to deny. The tone in the other’s voice should have been warning enough not to bother fighting. When the boot finally removed itself from his pelvis mid-sentence; Sans just felt relieved.

He shouldn’t have been.

“Not in heat?” Boss asked abrasively, “Prove it, then. Take them off.”

All the words stuck in the back of his throat. The small skeleton shook his head in denial. Huge, begging, terrified eyes meeting Boss’ cold expression.

“I said: Remove. Your. Shorts,” He specified. Body language alone warning there’d be immediate retaliation for disobeying the order.

Sans barely hesitated for a moment longer. It was clear Boss’ order was absolute. So, he did as he was told; quickly dropping his shorts. They fell down his legs. He stood awkwardly against the wall with his dick exposed. The translucent red appendage stood out from his pelvic bone. The shame of yet another erection beginning to form clear for anyone to see.

A talon latched onto his arm, immediately yanking him away from the wall towards Boss’ bedroom.

“W-wait!” He tried to protest.

“How dare you lie to me,” the low voice fumed, dragging him along. He threw open the door.

 “Boss! I can g-go to work!” Sans cried as he was thrown into the room with his pants still down around his ankles.

“Can you now?” Boss asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes, “With that?” He pointed to Sans’ partly formed, _second_ boner.

Sans didn’t even know how it had gotten that bad. Damn friction.

He flushed, trying to cover it by pulling down his leather coat.

“Y-yes!” He said indignantly, muttering, “Just give me a few minutes, dammit.” He could get this one to go away, too. The stocky skeleton rolled onto his hands and knees, trying to get up. Papyrus stepped on him, shoving him back to the ground. The floorboards scraped unpleasantly against his erection.

The smaller hissed in a sharp wince.

“No. I forbid it,” Boss denied in a straight voice. After a pause, he added slyly, “Why don’t you stay?” Like he was inviting a guest to get comfortable for the evening as he removed his heavy, red boot from the smaller’s spine. “I’ve got just the thing for you.”

He could feel talons dig into the back of his coat. His brother’s boundless strength lifted him easily from the floor. Boss tossed the startled skeleton unforgivingly onto the bed. By the time Sans managed to get himself turned around on the mattress, the black-clad form was already pulling some rope out of the bottom drawer of his dresser.

Boss had almost always helped him with his heats, but since the time it had gone horribly wrong, the bottom drawer of his dresser had begun to amass an alarming amount of “ _toys”_. Probably so he didn’t have to touch or deal with Sans any longer than he had to during those intimate moments. Boss always hated them.

Sans’ soul was already racing, eyes locked on the thick, familiar binding held in his brother’s hand. “I swear I-I ‘ain’t in heat!” Sans stammered out, crawling back across the mattress away from him. He backed up into the corner between the headboard and the wall. “I can get it ‘ta go away myself!”

Boss kept approaching. Not deterred by his protests in the slightest. His long form leaned over easily and snatched Sans by the ankle, dragging him across the bed until he was practically under him. “But why refuse the help? Why not take that day off you’ve been wanting? You know, _enjoy yourself,_ ” He purred devilishly, ripping the shorts entirely off his captive’s legs with his other hand. He aggressively discarded the garment. They flopped unceremoniously to the far side of the room.

Sans dared a quick glance to the side to watch them go. Fear painted all over his face. This was getting out of hand fast. He might have appreciated the help, even enjoyed it, during his heats, when he was blasted so far out of his mind in lust he could barely see straight, but he was sober now. He knew he didn’t want this.

 His distraction was poorly timed as Boss took the opportunity to seize one of Sans’ hands, deftly slipping a knot tightly over the wrist.

The rope was a usual prop that found its way into their “sessions” during heat because Boss didn’t like how grabby Sans could get. He had demanded that restraining him was necessary.

However, with last night’s theme still fresh in his mind- and knowing how that nightmare _should_ have gone, Sans panicked when he felt the rope tighten around his bone. Even though he knew Boss had never subjected him to anal since. His attention snapped back to the immediate problem of the familiar binding over his hands. He yanked his other hand away when Boss reached for it, hiding his arm behind his back.

The tall skeleton’s face darkened significantly, grimace tight. Instead of forcing it back, he turned his palm upright in front of Sans’ vision. Patience thin, he instructed, “Hand it over.”

Sweat on his brow, the little skeleton smiled nervously back up at him, “Hey, g-good one, Boss.” But he didn’t return his hand. His soul was beating twice as fast knowing full well he was disobeying. “Is that part of the _pun_ ishment, too?” he asked, smile quirking to the side as he tried to derail this from escalating too quickly. If he could just talk to him, he’d see –he’d know –that he wasn’t in heat.

Boss didn’t find it charming. A low, threatening growl formed in the back of his throat. “Hand. It. Over.”

He tried to dissuade him, anyway. “L-listen, I-”

“ _Now,_ ” Boss interrupted louder. The command cracked like thunder. Clearly, he wasn’t interested in what Sans had to say.

Sans snapped his fangs shut. Mostly out of frustration. Partly out of fear.

Boss didn’t want to talk. He’d obviously already made up his mind. So, why was he trying? He knew better than to disobey an order. He knew better than to kick or scream or fight Boss off. He’d never win. He knew better than to reason with him, too. Boss was a brute who’d take the things he wanted regardless.

Reluctantly, he placed his hand back into Boss larger palm, crimson eyes miserably falling off to the side. He didn’t even want to look at him.

“What’s this?” Boss questioned, rubbing a thumb across the gauze on his hand.

His eyes slowly shifted back to Boss’ face with a cursory glance. “I wrapped it up l-last night,” He answered timidly.

“Hm.” Was all he said, grunting the response as if he didn’t really care. As Boss carried on, Sans couldn’t shake the feeling he was gentler with this hand than the other. Marginally. So marginally it could have all been his imagination. But with the thought, he saw an opening which spurred him to try and plead one last time as the taller busily tied his hands together.

 “Boss, it ‘ain’t what ‘ya t-t-think. I’m n-not lying ‘ta ‘ya,” He tried to keep his voice calm, but his stutter was all over the place. Boss seemed to ignore him, finishing off a knot over his bound wrists. “I s-s-swear I’m no-!”

“Shut up,” Boss instructed with little patience left. A large taloned claw fell between the bound skeleton’s legs, stealing away the rest of his words as it stoked the biggest problem roughly. Sans slammed his eyes closed, fighting with the part of him that had given in at the very first temptation. He lost that fight terribly. He was reduced to nothing but pants in a matter of seconds. This was how Boss usually jerked him off and not the clumsy interpretation he’d preformed earlier.

Meaning it was much more effective. Especially after the disgraceful dream he’d just had about Papyrus.

“Weakling,” Boss mused at how quickly he’d surrendered so completely to him. He shoved Sans down to the mattress, so he was lying on his back. He kept one hand between his legs to keep him quiet, kneading the arousal. With his other hand, he tugged Sans’ bound wrists above his head with the generous excess of rope that was leftover. He wove this around the headboard of the bed, pinning the small skeleton’s hands permanently above him while he was distracted.

He just felt a hand twisting and pulling attentively at his exposed magic.

“Nmh!” Sans shivered against the gloved touches. For a few seconds he couldn’t focus on anything but those distracting strokes. He didn’t even realize the new position of his arms until Boss stepped away from the bed to dig through the bottom drawer of his dresser again. Leaving what he’d started agonizingly unfinished.

When the shadow looming over him left, Sans tugged at his bound hands, his crotch still on fire. The rope caught. He held back the urge to whimper when he realized he wasn’t going to be able to finish it himself.

He tried to work his way up across the bed into a sitting position by his hands, but Boss grabbed an ankle and pulled him flat again.

“Stay,” He corrected, slipping another rope around his snagged ankle. He knew he was in for a bad time when Boss tied it to the lower corner of the bed, restricting his movement even _further._

By now, he’d broken out into a cold, anxious sweat, half from fear and half from a growing, itching need. His crimson eyes were glued to Boss as he pulled a _third_ rope out of the drawer. Obviously knowing where this was going, Sans flinched away his one free leg when Boss reached for it.

 A stupid move.

Where did he think he could possibly go?

 Boss growled in frustration and Sans slowly, timidly lowered it back into range of the foot of the bed. The black-clad skeleton snatched it roughly the second he could, tying it to the opposite bottom corner of the bed twice as tightly as the other two.

 “So, uh,” He murmured nervously into the silence as Boss busily pulled the rope, tightening it severely around his last free limb, “W-w-what’s with the new po-position, Boss?” He was completely pinned to the bed, arms above his head and legs spread eagle. The latter bothered him the most. He usually had his arms bound. Sometimes Boss would tie them to something to free up his own hands, but he’d never had all his limbs restricted quite like this.

A cool, breezy sensation tickled his exposed pelvis.

“Worried?” Boss asked, a sly grin creeping in at the corner of his mouth. Keeping a straight, regal position, the intimidating dark silhouette bent only the slightest bit over the bed. “Good. But don’t be. You’re going to enjoy this, Sans, but I’m going to enjoy it even more.”

He came to stand by the head of the bed, closer to Sans’ face. Between two thin, gloved fingers, he held up a fairly small, thick metallic ring that appeared to have several smaller spherical balls built into its radius. “Do you know what this is?”

Sans studied the small ring with big eyes, but this one was new. He’d had a shit ton of sex, but his clients rarely used toys outside of the typical bondage like rope. In fact, toys weren’t very easy to come by in the Underground. Sans had always found it humorous that Boss had an entire drawer full. So, as his eyes flicked along the diameter of the metallic ring, they only reflected confusion.

“This is your punishment,” Boss responded flatly. He turned his attention lower, to Sans pathetic half-formed erection. It certainly wasn’t getting any larger the longer he sat there in quivering fear. Which should have been even further proof that he _wasn’t_ in heat like Boss had suggested, but he held back the protest which had only fallen on deaf ears so far.

Instead of grabbing the needily twitching cock, Boss grabbed him by the balls, causing Sans to yelp. He flinched involuntarily. The ropes held him down, though, and the little skeleton’s flex served no purpose other than to uncomfortably dig his limbs against the knotted ropes. Between his outstretched legs, the taller proceeded to slip one ball then the other into the ring. Then, he wrapped a hand around Sans’ erection. The breath hitched in the back of his throat, thinking it was about to get what it was craving, but, instead, Boss _bent_ the appendage to cram the unformed erection into the already tight ring.

“F-f-fuck!” He cried out, straining the bonds twice as hard the second time.

It took a lot of finagling, but he eventually slipped it down to the very base. So, the ring sat at the bottom, holding both his cojones and his cock within it. Sans was left blinking away tears as he tried to figure out how Boss had even fit all of those things inside that small ring to begin with. He wasn’t exactly _thin._

He got his answer, however, when Boss slipped another ring over the top of his wide shaft.

Great. _There was more than one._

Ignoring Sans’ grunts of protest, he managed to slide this one down to the very base of the red shaft. Just above the testicles. Lastly, he slipped the final, smallest ring on, too. It was the one he’d shown him earlier. It only fit over the top, sitting just behind his meaty head. He could feel the pressure of all three of them, none as tight as the lowest.

“How’s it feel?” Boss asked in a detached manner.

Sans’s chest was still heaving after having his cock manhandled so roughly during the first ring. The cool metal chilled against his heat. Panting, he shot Boss a dead, unsatisfied look.

“Speak up.” Boss taunted, that wry smile almost tilting the edge of his permanent grimace. “Does it feel bad?” His gloved hand snaked lower, “Or does it feel good?” He concluded the question by petting Sans’ traitorously twitching member with a single hand.

The relief, mixed with the disgust he felt for feeling relief at all, was almost indescribable.

His body was the most honest thing; it immediately tried to curl in and flinch away from the touch, straining his hands against the bonds yet again. “Shit! It feels like shit!” He blubbered out, but his body was also honest enough to react to the relief it felt at finally being touched in the place it really wanted to be. He felt intensely focused on the large hand twisting around his cock. The touch wasn’t rough or crude; the tease was almost gentle. And he wanted to curse even louder when his mind immediately wandered to a pair of thumbs tracing along his iliac crests in a moment of piss poor association.

“S-Shit,” Sans’ jaw quivered, his voice a bit thicker. He felt helpless. And not just because of the ropes. He couldn’t even control himself as his erection began to swell back up at his brother’s touch. And he saw where this was going quickly. Because as it swelled, the rings didn’t budge, squeezing down around his shame.

“You _don’t_ like it?” Boss questioned sarcastically, his hand never once stopping its damning temptation as the small skeleton seemed to struggle futilely against it.

A whine slipped past his fangs.

The glove pulled away. “Ah, that’s right,” the realization was obviously feigned which he spoke like he’d read it from a script. He fell partway over Sans. Resting his knees and one hand on the mattress, so he could loom over the small, defenseless form while achieving a much better reach of the helpless prey. Boss looked him straight in his crimson eyes. “You were more interested in _somewhere else_ earlier, weren’t you?”

Just to prove there was no question as to what area that was, a long, middle finger pressed its way inside his asshole.

“Ah-hah _nn!_ ” He bit off a scream.

Sans’ hips bucked uncontrollably, but it forced its way in. When he’d done it, he’d shyly kept the intrusion down to a single joint. Boss had no such reservations. He slid his entire finger into the hole down to the knuckle. The soft walls of his insides clamped down on the intrusion severely as it reached deep. His fingers were quite a stretch longer than Sans’. The smaller kicked and thrashed, but he could hardly do anything to stop it. He strained his bindings until they were pulled taut, but they easily held him down.

Boss held his finger still once planted inside, attentively watching his expression until he calmed down enough to open bleary sockets. Then, he slipped the finger out. Then, back in. Then, back out. Repeating the motion over and over again. Quiet, wet, smacks began to fill the room. Taunting him for earlier sins.

As much as he wanted the finger to stop, his legs were held wide open for him. Inviting him back in each time. There was literally no resistance as the finger fucked him. Sans shamefully turned his head away from the piercing red gaze watching him. “Bo-ss,” He whimpered out, squirming as much as he could in the tight bonds, “C-Come on. _Hn_. That ain’t funny.”

That _did_ make Boss chuckle. “ _You_ not finding something funny? No,” He pinched his chin, turning him back to face him. “I think you like it.”

To prove his point, he bent the talon inside him, itching his insides.

The little skeleton bucked all over again, but a rather lewd moan snaked past his fangs.

“Ahh _hhnn!”_

Sans’ face was flushed fully crimson as the finger continued to pump in and out of him. Filling the room with a louder, sloshing sound as it sped up. The motion reminded him so much of that sensation he’d been desperately searching out since he’d woken up. But now that he had it; he hated it. He hated how, after a while, his ass just started sucking the finger back in eagerly. He hated how, instead of fighting, he fell weak and limp against the bonds. And he hated how severely he had to grit his fangs together just to keep himself from moaning each time.

He didn’t want this.

But he was reduced to a docile, needy participant within a minute. Hips rocking to meet the needed friction as if bound by compulsion. His eyes were glazed in desire as heavy sockets fell half over them. Face flushed. Eventually, he couldn’t even keep his fangs together, quiet, needy moans escaping them. “Hnn,” He panted, “Haah. Anh!”

“Good boy,” Boss purred, watching him fall to an even lower self-low.

“Nnghh!”

Watching him submit to his little brother’s finger thrusting in and out of him and the satisfied, squelching sounds that followed. “Now you’re being honest.”

With that single finger, he brought him back to a full erection which strained against the confines of the rings. Pleased with his work, he pulled his finger out with an audibly wet pop.

Yet the lack of stimulation didn’t make him any less hard. The metal rings choked off the blood flow. The heat filling his crotch permanently trapped the erection in its current form. His cock twitched hungrily, locked in an engorged state. He was sweaty. Immensely aroused. And the shame slipped for the briefest second. Swept by his own craving, he wailed in protest when the finger left him.

Boss ignored him, walking back to his dresser. He dug around the bottom drawer, “Unfortunately for you, I can’t stay. Unlike _someone_ I’ve got work to do.” The tall black-clad skeleton walked back to the bed. A rubber, oval-like cylinder attached to a wire held in one glove. He sat on the edge of the bed, dipping the mattress as he leaned over Sans. Red, critical eyes roaming over the small bound form, drinking him in.

He shied away from that gaze; shame crashing back down.

He was panting heavily, his legs split wide apart in invitation. His thick, red cock was fully erect, sticking straight off his person. The rings clamped around him, locking every damnable ounce of arousal he’d felt in permanently for anyone to see. His naked hips twitched occasionally, hinting at that sullied desire. Higher, his small chest was heaving with each struggled gasp that parted his fangs. A crimson skull was sunken into his furred coat that had bunched up around his head due to his arms which were bound above. Sweat dotted the bone, proof of his exertion. The little skeleton could barely keep his large sockets open, heavily lidded over two glossy, crimson irises.

Boss _made_ him look at him, roughly cupping a large hand beneath his chin as his talons drummed along the side of his flushed skull. Yet he still tried to keep his gaze off to the side, too ashamed to meet his brother’s eyes.

“Do you even realize how much trouble you’re in?” Boss questioned, after a few agonizing moments of silence which had been filled with nothing but his own labored breaths. “I’ll be working for weeks on end to fix this damn mess you’ve caused.”

“Boss,” Sans managed to get the word past his teeth, a lisp drawing out the detestable nickname. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want desires he wished he’d never even had in the first place to be fed so openly. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m s-s-sorry, o-okay!” He got the point, already. Boss was pissed.

 “Not yet you aren’t,” The low, dangerous voice insisted. He slowly began to slide something large up Sans’ defenseless, taut asshole.

“S-Shit!” The little skeleton cussed against the sudden intrusion, eyes glued shut. This was wider than a finger. There was a splitting pressure there where there shouldn’t be. He could feel the ribbed rubber tube pushing against him and the fingers that were burying it deep. Then, the fingers pulled out. Yet, the pressure remained.

“You just stay here,” The Lieutenant implored, “Enjoy your day off.” Boss promptly flicked a switch and the vibrator whirred to life. A dull, constant buzz filling the room.

“Auughhnn!”

Sans hips bucked at the sudden sensation, but he went nowhere pinned down. He kicked, but the ropes held him still. He twisted, but his bindings held him flat. No matter how he thrashed, it was clear that the intense pulsing shaking from within him was there to stay. “Bo-Boss!” He cried in panic, pleading. “Don’t l-lea-“

The door to the bedroom slammed shut noisily.

He left him there like that. Alone.

A dreadful feeling sank in his gut. Boss wouldn’t really just _leave_ him here, right? At least not for long? But the rational side of him reasoned; no, this was Boss. _Boss_ actually might.

He was trembling with the vibrator in him. He had no idea what he was going to do if he didn’t come back for him.

“Boss?” He called out, strained.

Nothing answered him but the buzz.

_Bzzzzzzrrr-_

He could barely spare a thought to wrap around the situation. He was operating on his most primal instincts at this point. A strange mixture of arousal and fear. The sound of his soul pounding rang throughout his head. Panting profusely, he was squeezing the vibrator inside him as tightly as he could which only amplified the sensation. Unable to find a state of rest, his hips bucked at the constant, impartial buzz filling him up. Yet the longer he let it drone on, the more heat flooded into his groin. Thus, the more his erection strained against the metal rings confining it.

He tried to shake his hips, hoping he could trick the stimulant out, but it was lodged too deeply inside of him to just fall out. Panicking didn’t improve his situation at all. Moving any way whatsoever only _helped._ As the toys went to work, he couldn’t stop the slew of moans falling from his mouth. “Aughn! Nn. Ngh!” He mewled as he rocked his hips in desperation, “N-no-“

Eventually, he’d driven himself to his first climax.

Or rather, the motions of one. He strained his bonds, thrashing and twitching involuntarily against the restraints, but he couldn’t release. Those damn metal rings were squeezing him too tightly. What should have been a satisfying, complete ejaculation was reduced to nothing more than a little trail of cum that dribbled down the tip of his engorged shaft. The rest of it still pent up inside him, pressing the metal rings. Even though he was beyond done, completely exhausted and spent. He was still hard. He was still fully erect. And the erratic motions had only served to spur the influence of the vibrator on even further.

Twitching, tense, his hips were lifted as far off the bed as they could go. He couldn’t find a safe way to lower them without inducing the vibrator’s wrath.

“Ah. _Ahh._ Hngh!” Each labored breath he panted out, he squeezed the shape lodged up his ass which whirred temptingly against the sensitive spots deep within him. “ _Nnn_ hngh!” He whimpered, straining the ropes, rubbing sores into his ankles. Depraved, he couldn’t control himself. He struggled, but he couldn’t get out.

It wasn’t long before the quakes and tremors from the last climax drove him into another fit. Kicking and pulling and twisting against his bonds. Again, he was held down. Again, he was unable to cum. The rings held firm, a steady trail of semen leaking out the top as his failures built up below. Yet this time, afterwards, he was completely worn-out. Breathless, he was unable to fight against the treatment anymore. He fell completely limp in his bonds.

The dull, buzz continued to whirr, filling the empty room. Filling him.

As luck would have it, holding completely still seemed to be the best way to fend off the vibrator in this particular situation. Sure, it was still invasive. It was still lodged in the deepest parts of him unleashing a constant, inescapable attack from within. It could hardly be _ignored_ , but Sans was too tired to fight it. He got used to it. He succumbed to the whirring temptation so he could rest. So he could gather his breath and his strength.

“Haah.”

_Bzzzzzzrrr-_

“Hah.”

_-zzzzzrrr-_

“Hmn!” He gasped.

_-zzzzzrrr-_

The torture was never ending.

In the wake of his exertion, he was shaky. His limbs twitched and flexed involuntarily without him wanting to. He still shook and jostled the toy needlessly. And each time he failed to hold still, it forced his arousal further. His cock was throbbing against the metal rings painfully. Refusing to let this induced desire go. He was pent up so badly he became incredibly sensitive. Even the _air_ in the room seemed to be touching him in a lewd way as it breezed against his exposed half. All he wanted was some damn friction, but the rings didn’t provide that well and attempting to get it from the vibrator just put him in a worse state with the rings. He was forced to try and hold perfectly still.

An impossible task.

He even risked testing the rope around his hands again, jostling the bed which inadvertently spurred the vibrations. It didn’t end well. It was clear he wasn’t going to get himself free and Boss didn’t seem like he was coming back anytime soon.

 By the third time he failed to climax, he was drooling and blabbering nonsense.

After twenty minutes in the room he didn’t have any sensible function over any of his limbs.

And after twenty-five; most had gone numb.

_-zzzzzrrr-_

Even so, Boss left him in there for over an hour.

Sans worked enough sense back into his addled mind to know he desperately had to get out of these bindings. The trap was downright painful at this point. He was well past overstimulation and even further past arousal. Every throb of his cock rubbed sores against the unmoving metal rings. Every relentless pulse of the vibrator had him whimpering. And every failed climax resulted in him screaming for several minutes.

Everywhere was raw. Everywhere hurt.

So even though he was a soggy, drooling, disgusting mess that barely had any magic left to wield; he grit his sniveling fangs and tried to scrounge up enough energy to summon a bone.

“C-c-c-come on,” he pleaded, voice hoarse. Trying to focus past hazy vision and a buzzing pain long enough to form the familiar shape. It was several minutes of the same repetitious agony before he was able to concentrate his muddled mind enough to actually form the weapon.

A sharp, crimson bone floated just overhead.

Seeing it sent the first feeling of relief he’d felt in nearly an hour washing over him. He got so overwhelmed with emotion –

It shattered.

Busted in a splendid show of red sparks and confetti dust. The traces of magic floating dolefully down.

_Bzzzzzzrrr-_

It was going to be okay. He knew he could do it now. He shouldn’t give up because of one failed attempt.

Two more bones shattered.

The rings were digging into him. Pinching him painfully as the vibrator droned on. A hopeless wail died in the back of his sore throat. He didn’t have the magic, focus, or energy for this. But he _refused_ to stay here, so he pulled everything he had to try again in yet another last-ditch effort.

He was trying to scrounge the last of his magic together when a sudden searing pain shot across his chest.

The bite was violent. He immediately tried to curl in on himself. He shut is eyes against the stab, yanking his limbs inward from the rope, but he didn’t go anywhere. The binds held firm. Moving only made the trap’s pain triple. Then, he had to wait until _all_ of the pains subsided. He panted heavily as he tried to recover what was left of his breath. When he blinked his eyes open, though, through bleary slits he could see a red figure hovering above the bed. A point aimed down.

The fourth bone had stayed.

Grateful, but desperate, he quickly tried to figure out what he could do with it before it shattered like the others. His hands were bound and numbed to the point of nonexistence; he needed them functioning to manipulate an object’s gravity. However, his shoulders weren’t numb yet. If he shook them, he might be able to get the forward and back motion he needed.

So, he did that.

He gripped onto its gravity and shook his shoulders as hard as he could causing his limp arms to flop above him.

The bone shot away from him, then barreled back, spinning wildly.

_Snap._

With a damning snap, it lodged deeply into his left shoulder. The crack resounded around the room. The bone was broken –and the pain was instant.

He tried to clamp his fangs down. Thrashing only made everything _else_ worse, too. He knew that, but he’d already done it. He’d recoiled against the initial impact. The vibrator pressed against the deep, sensitive, horribly raw parts within him, whirring against his insides. In shock, he shook violently. He tried to counter the spasms, but he just didn’t have that sort of control over his body any more. He convulsed.

The motions sent him into another ‘climax’.

“AHHHHhhhhn _nngghh_ -hnn- _hnn!_ ” He screamed bloody murder. His overly sensitive engorged shaft flamed against the metal bonds restraining it, shrieking for release. Yet only a small steady trail of cum leaked out of the tip. “Ahhhhh! Ahhnn. GAH-hn! G _Nnhh!_ ”

He couldn’t even see straight. There were spots on his vision. Everything just blew into an empty white.

It was several minutes of screeches and spasms before the room quieted back to the dull buzz and whatever passed as “calm” at the moment worked its way back into his hazy mind. Slowly, his crimson eyes trailed to the side. The bone that had been lodged in his shoulder was gone. Shattered.

He’d be, too, soon.

Why had he tried that if he couldn’t even _aim_? Probably because he couldn’t even think straight in this situation. Everything just hurt. He wanted out. He never thought it would be _safe._ He just thought it might get him out of this damn snare.

He waited for a bit. Blank, dead sockets staring at the dull roof as he endured the impartial buzz trapped within him. Unfortunately, dust didn’t claim him as fast as he had hoped.

So, while he still had a chance –if he had a choice -he didn’t really want to die like this. Not without pants. Not in this hellish torture of sins and regrets.

So, he summoned another bone. Pointed. Sharp. It hovered above the bed, spike down. A precarious position. But, it wasn’t like he had anything to lose.

He tried again to manipulate the gravity.

The crimson bone slammed into the cushion of the mattress next to his head with a vicious, audible _thud_.

He didn’t flinch. Another miss.

It was like he was playing roulette with his life.

He was able to form another one. Somehow, it was easier to form them now than before, but he had no idea where he was pulling the magic from.

This one slammed into the area just beneath his right armpit. It shook the bed with the impact.

A close call.

But the worst a miss could do to him now is set off another fit. If he was lucky, he’d be crumbling into dust well before then. It was game over, anyway. But, did he want to risk it? He should just give up.

He tried again.

This one spun out, then barreled back in viciously spinning out of control.

_Snap._

It snapped the rope above his arms free.

Suddenly, the tension in his elbows sunk away. Breath caught, Sans stared up at his hands in disbelief. Part of him, truly, hadn’t thought this plan would work. That it was nothing more than a suicide mission so he could end it.

He was jolted back to life with a heavy breath that flooded into his heaving chest.

It didn’t take long for him to surge into action with the rush of adrenaline that relief brought. He sat up, wincing as the toys rubbed him raw. His hands were dead, but he pulled his bound wrists in front of him and chewed on the rope. Seeking relief for his numb fingers. With his sharp fangs and the already cut rope, he managed to pull them enough that the bindings loosened a tad around his arms.

_-zzzzzrrr-_

He stopped what he was doing to take care of that insufferable nuisance. He still didn’t have any feeling in his fingers, but with enough slack in the rope of his bound wrists now, he tried to bang his limp wrists together around the cord hanging out of his ass. When, he trapped the wire, he yanked it out.

The pressure lodged in him surged, tugging partway down his anus. The vibrator still buzzed within him.

_-zzzzzrrr-_

“Gnh!” He tensed against the sore ministrations, as it beat against his raw insides. He trembled. Flinching involuntarily for several moments, while he tried to hold still.

It passed.

This time, with both hands he wound the cord around both his wrists and yanked again, fighting against the protesting pain as it slid incrementally out his anus. With patience, he pulled the buzzing rubber tube so it was half dangling out of his asshole. At this point, he was shaking uncontrollably after aggravating the trap so much. With one more good tug, however, it popped free with a gross squelching noise. He dropped the soggy toy right there between his legs. He didn’t have the movement to discard it anywhere else. It whirred against the mattress, still running.

But he wasn’t in the clear yet. After aggravating the area so much, his cock was positively pounding. Veins bulging. A steady stream of cum dribbling out the top, but it couldn’t get its relief just yet.

Sweaty. Hot. He took to chewing on the ropes around his wrists again. After what felt like ages, he’d gnawed away enough of the bindings that when feeling _did_ finally return to his hands, he was able to snap the remaining threads of the rope. The bond fell off his wrists.

Sans tested his shaky fingers with wonder. He had started to think he wouldn’t be getting them back. The joints didn’t bend perfectly, awkwardly stiff and unnatural, but he had enough feeling in them to function.

So, he hastily, albeit, sloppily, untied the knots around his ankles. Once his legs were free, he glanced down at the still buzzing toy between his legs, preventing him from closing them. Fuck that. He kicked the vibrator violently away from him like the thing was foul. It pinged off the footboard. So, when it came back for revenge, rolling nearer, he scampered away from whirring device as though it were some chronic plague. The already uneasy skeleton lost his balance, falling over the side of the bed.

He caught himself on his hands and knees with a bang.

Panting, mind pounding, he dragged himself away from the bed on only three limbs. One hand desperately tugging and pulling at the cage around his shaft. The rings were a lot more tricky to remove. They were _metal,_ after all, and his erection had grown too inflamed to just slip them over the top. It was still imperative he got them off as soon as possible. He was so desperate to free himself, he barely got a foot away before he prioritized escaping the rings over the laws of gravity.

 His face splatted against the floor to hold him up so he could use two hands on the rings.

He felt like he was going to faint. His cock throbbed against his fingers as he fumbled helplessly with the vile, metal contraptions, half delirious, until-

 

_-“all you have to do is not pull away. stay still,” He instructed. Sans definitely wasn’t moving. He pushed their fingers closer together until they were touching. He pinched the colorful weave and pulled his finger free. Then, he slipped the tube off of Sans’ finger. He quickly retracted his hand away from Papyrus, rubbing his digit. He made it look so easy.–_

Instead of trying to hopelessly tug the rings _apart_ , he pinched the diameter together.

- _click_ -

One of the metal balls snapped off. The lowest ring sprang free. The damn things had _locks._ Little hidden mechanisms that, once twisted and pressed the right way, opened the ring so it could be removed. Boss had shoved them on the hard way just to fuck with him!

He desperately grappled with the next ring to try and find which of the spheres along the radius was the hidden lock, groping himself inappropriately the whole way, until, that one, too, popped off. Quaking, he threw it off to the side. He was so damn close now. Everything built up behind that final bind.

Frantically, he worked around the last ring. Curled in on himself, face smashed against the floorboards, chest heaving short gasps of air, he spun clumsy fingers around the tip of his cock trying to find the last key.

- _click_ -

He yanked it off.

It was like opening the fucking floodgates. Like a hose he came all over the floor. The pent arousal pouring out of his cock. He milked the cum out with one trembling hand as the rest of him shivered.

“Hnn. A-Aahhnn! MMhhn. Mm.” He cried muffled moans into the carpet.

There was literally a puddle of release below him, staining the floor.

Boss would probably be pissed he ruined his carpet, but fuck him. He deserved piss all over his floor.

When it was _finally_ over, the magic that had bound his genitals in place shattered. All his energy left with it. Sans collapsed onto the floor curled up in a disgusting little ball of fluid. He trembled against the carpet, cold and alone.

But he refused to stay here.

Even though he felt like he could barely move, he forced himself back onto his hands and knees. He dragged himself to the far side of the room, where he put his shorts back on. Then, he anchored his back against the wall, sliding himself up the wallpaper until he was standing on quivering knees.

With heavy sockets he looked out at the grandiose bed, now shot with holes, the rumpled red sheets, and the stained carpet. The vibrator still whirring in the distance. The large room had been decorated impeccably, if not totalitarian by design. It was all his brother’s taste. So, he knew he certainly didn’t want to be here when Boss found yet another one of his messes.

Boss would kill him, but Sans had always held his own ideas about his death.

Watching the void’s paths ripple through, he pushed himself away from the wall and staggered through a shortcut.

He knew where he wanted to go.

He stumbled out into a low-hanging cave, secreted away in the depths of Waterfall. He banged his head against the uneven ceiling since it wasn’t even tall enough to stand in, but managed to shuffle himself into the cave’s curved wall, nestled next to the only entrance. The doorway was small. The ground had been dug out around the base to widen the entry. Those extra inches had been the only thing that had gotten Papyrus through the door in their final years here.

The nook.

Their childhood home. It was filthy. It smelled weird. It was cramped. He couldn’t even stand. It was his favorite place in the entire world. Nostalgia was one hell of a drug. He felt like he could still hear their laughter echoing out of the many red flowers he’d planted into the walls for Papyrus’ sake. Their glow cast a red light on the cramped, little space. His little brother’s favorite color. The whole room was like a time capsule. Sure, it had aged. It was overgrown. Fuzzy green moss creeping into the walls and over the rugs. Seeping into the grooves they’d carved into the stone over the years. But not a thing had been moved since the day they’d left. Little, broken trinkets and collections of trash still cluttered next to their makeshift beds. Stupid items they’d valued as children, but left behind as adults. Their old, musty blanket-rags still abandoned on the floor; left behind in the exact same spot as the day they’d left for a better life at the cabin.

Admittedly, dirty plants and moldy rugs were more _Sans’_ taste. He was more comfortable here than home. And, given the choice, there was nowhere he’d rather leave his dust.

Holding his broken shoulder in one arm, he sunk against the wall, those final few inches he’d need to reach the ground. Weak. Exhausted. He was ready to go. He squeezed the fatal blow tighter. All that was left to do was wait to die.

Yet, when his hand clamped around the injury, a wet noise squished out of his jacket.

Sans pulled a shaky hand away from his shoulder. An opaque red liquid stained the top of his bandaged hand. Not like the scrape on his hand had leaked through. Rather like he was leaking a lot more of the stuff. He stared into the red depths atop his shaky hand. He didn’t know what to think of it.

But after several dreadful minutes; he still hadn’t dusted.

After several more, he finally remembered what it was like to breathe _breaths_ instead of gasps.

And after ten minutes, he impatiently started to wonder if he was he even dusting, at all.

Slowly, he pried his winter coat off and peeled back the shirt. His broken shoulder was throbbing, though the pain felt like nothing compared to what he’d been through earlier, but it definitely, unmistakably hurt. His clavicle was busted; a wound that should have killed him. Injuries normally dissolved the affected tissue to dust, until it could be restored once again by magic. So, strong monsters could have their heads cut off and still survive. But, on a monster as weak as him, any damage- even a simple crack with the right force- would have spread across his body like a falling sandcastle. Either slow or fast; it would have been inevitable. Yet his body remained intact. As his red irises roamed the damage; there wasn’t a speck of dust to be found.

He _wasn’t_ dusting?

However, there was quite a bit of red dripping down the snapped bone to his ribs. As his eyes trailed down his chest, he couldn’t help but be caught by the light of his soul, flickering out of sight just beneath his bunched up shirt. Tentatively, he pulled the sensitive organ from his ribs. Cupping the red light in front of him.

Maybe he wasn’t dusting.

But he was _definitely_ dying.

What had once been a barely noticeable flaw was now a full blown fracture splitting straight through his soul, dividing it in half. While the pieces remained together, they were visibly separated by the thick crack. There was a smaller, but still significant, vertical crack up the left side and on the right there was another split snaking around the top half horizontally as if the pieces of himself were chipping away even further.

His bones weren’t crumbling; his _soul_ was.

But Sans had no idea why. If his soul was shattering, his body should be, too.

Confused and lost he could only stare into the broken, red light, trying to come to grips with that realization. Not dusting, but dying. His body wasn’t going to dust, but he was going to die.

After all, his soul _was_ him. It was the very essence of his life. Everything that made up who he was –was shattering.

It was impossible to try and remove the two concepts from each other. How could one survive while the other didn’t? His body and his life –he’d never thought of them as separate things before. They were supposed to reflect the state of the other. If his body was harmed, so, too, was the soul. So how could his soul be in such a terrible condition, if his body was more sturdy than it’d ever been? Because, surely, by all accounts, he should be dead!

No, according to the soul, he _was_ dead?

Looking at it… Somehow, he felt it was fitting that he was broken. He’d been whole for years and often wondered _how?_ Hell, he’d been whole for decades and often hoped for _when_.

He stared lifelessly into those broken pieces searching for answers –none he found were good. He spent so long lost in his mind, he would have drowned if it wasn’t for the hazily distant, muffled screams he heard from the other side of the wall.

“ _\---_!”

“--ns! You’re in there, right?”

“ _Sans_?!”

It was Boss.

Boss always knew how to find him. He considered not saying anything for a moment, but the banging sounded desperate. The voice almost scared. “SANS!”

“Yeah, ’m here,” He murmured faintly, slumped against the wall. His own voice sounded removed from the whole situation. When had he gone so numb? Cautiously, he slipped his soul safely back beneath his ribs.

The banging stopped. He heard talons scrape down the side of the outside wall. There was a heavy pause, before his voice spoke again in a more normal volume. “Are you unharmed?”

What a question.

Was he supposed to know the answer to that? He stared at his hands dyed red for several quiet minutes. Twiddling the phalanges. Unlike before, life had returned to them. They were no longer numb. They functioned. Yet his shoulder still throbbed. Absently, as if he were still in a daze, he pulled his shirt back down over his chest, covering the stained bones. He let his arms hang limp in his lap. Then, answered hollowly, “Yeah, ‘m fine.”

His visitor didn’t consider his response for very long. “Liar,” He knew him too well. “I don’t believe you.”

“I am,” He echoed dully.

He could hear Boss’ heavy, red boots tapping antsily against the wet cavern floor. “Prove it, then. Come out and show me.”

Sans pulled his leather jacket back on, zipping it up to the top, but he didn’t move. He huddled into the corner, tucking his hands close to his sides. He rolled so his back was to the door. “…No.”

“Why?” the ticked voice quipped like it was proof of his dishonesty.

“Fuck off.”

He could almost hear Boss roll his eyes. “Mature.”

“I’ve got some more _mature_ things I could say ‘ta ‘ya,” Sans snarled past his fangs.

“Let’s hear it then.”

Sans took a deep breath, swelling his little chest, “’Yer a _cunt_ ‘ya bloody bug-eyed bitchy cocksuckin’ needle-dicked cumhungry,” He banged the wall in anger, “HARD-ASS SHITFACED GODDAMN FUCKIN’ BROTHERFUCKER–“ He only stopped because he was out of breath. His hand curled into a little fist against the wall, trembling with the pressure. He was blowing energy he didn’t even have. The spike of anger couldn’t last long, and he just slid back down the wall, crumpling at the base. His voice quivered pitifully, “–were ‘ya j-just gonna leave me there?”

“I,” Boss’ breath caught as he sighed loudly past his nasal cavity, “…miscalculated.”

Miscalculated? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? He banged the wall harshly again, but didn’t have the energy to lift himself off the floor. “Get lost!” He cried, shaking on his exerted bones in a little heap on the floor. He covered his head in his arms to try and block out Boss’ words. He kicked the wall with his foot, but that bang didn’t have any energy. “ _Get lost_!”

That wasn’t an excuse!

There was no tap of boots as the tall skeleton departed. No sound whatsoever to symbolize he’d left, at all. Clearly, Boss had no intention of leaving. He stood on the other side of the wall, listening to Sans pant against the floor for some time. “Are you sure you’re unharmed?”

Sans shut his eyes. He felt so goddamn weak. What was he supposed to think about all of this? “Why are ‘ya even here?” He whined rhetorically, a hopeless growl dying in the back of his throat.

“I was looking for you.”

“Why bother?” Sans echoed emptily. The asshole had almost killed him.

“You weren’t where you should have been.”

Figures. A calm, professional, and detached response. That was a very Papyrus answer. Especially since he’d answered _two_ rhetorical questions. Sans abandoned kicking the wall, huddling into his coat as he frowned into the moldy floor. “Are ‘ya gonna hunt me down every damn time I take a shortcut somewhere?”

“Are you going to run away every time you are upset with something?” The voice shot back.

Sans grimaced. “So what? ‘Yer here to kick my ass ‘n tell me to get over it?”

“No…” Papyrus’ voice trailed off. “You know I can’t fit in there, anymore,” there’s a smirk to his voice.

Cheeky, little shit.

“…Are ‘ya callin’ me small?” He grumbled.

“You are small, brother.” Leave it to Papyrus to be brutally honest; no matter what.

Despite himself, Sans laughs. A sore, raw sound that croaked in the back of his throat. “Fuck you.”

 “Come out.” The voice demanded.

The little skeleton didn’t move. He laid against the cold, damp stone weighing his options.

“Come home with me.” He ordered, clearly not planning to leave without him.

“Why should I?” Sans bit out, still feeling rather hollow inside. He still felt jaded over all this, so he was honestly asking for a reason at this point.

“Because you sound tired,” Boss noted, tactically laying out his answer in a logical manner. “It’s not safe to be out here. So, come back with me. You don’t have the energy to teleport do you?”

He didn’t. He was honestly surprised he’d even made it this far, but that was probably only with the help of adrenaline. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to walk back properly, let alone defend himself if something went wrong. Hell, if he waited too long, maybe he wouldn’t even be able to walk at all.

He sighed.

Reluctantly, he crawled to the hole. He was too thick in the middle now to crawl through on all fours. So, Sans had to lay on his back and push himself through the hidden entrance while he sucked in his gut. He’d squeezed himself partway through the hole, when a claw grabbed his hood and dragged him out the rest of the way.

Boss’ piercing red eyes were staring down at him. The irises darted all over the little form in a quick check, but there wasn’t any dust. The red liquid stained an equally red shirt and even darker coat. It was nearly impossible to spot, let alone to know to look for it in the first place. By all accounts, Sans _seemed_ unharmed, though he didn’t smile up at his brother as he usually might.

The taller helped lift him onto shaky feet. The second he dropped his hood, Sans shuffled awkwardly to the outskirts of his reach. Eyes dropped timidly and cast to the side.

He could feel Boss staring at him for a while longer, but he didn’t snatch him or do anything startling. The dark-clad skeleton turned on his heel and began to walk away. “Let’s go.”

Boss kept his usually fervent pace to a minimum so the smaller didn’t lag too far behind. Sans followed behind on unsteady legs, but he managed to keep up. He kept his eyes down on worn sneakers as they passed through Waterfall’s winding pathways. Dim, red flickers and shadows on every wall. Sans made sure he stayed close, huddling in towards the tall back.

They walked in silence.

Until Sans felt the need to break it.

“’Ya gonna tell me why ‘ya ditched me?” He asked solemnly in a small voice, eyes glancing off to the side. Surely he deserved at least an explanation?

The other didn’t even turn around, his red cape dancing off his shoulders. But he did answer. “I got stuck at work. It took longer than I anticipated. So, I am glad you are unharmed.” It was probably the closest thing to a “sorry” he’d ever get out of Boss.

“Hm.” Sans grunted in a gruff voice, sinking his hands into his winter coat’s pockets as he trailed behind the long gait. Not exactly a satisfying excuse. “So, what happened?”

“We found a bunch of dust on the outskirts of Snowdin close to Waterfall. No idea who it belongs to yet. Since it was in the middle of jurisdictions, we had to get together with the Captain’s team to try and decide the best course of action for a proper investigation.”

It wasn’t often Sans got Boss to talk about his reasons for anything, but he wasn’t surprised that when he _did_ get him talking; it was all about work. “Investigation?” Sans snorted derisively, “‘Ya ain’t gonna find anythin’ with just dust.”

“Don’t mock the capabilities of the Royal Guard!” He tutted defensively. He always did have an unfailable faith in the Guard.

“Uh-huh,” the stocky skeleton mused dryly, “And in that long meetin’ ‘ya were in, did’ja _decide_ on any course of action?” Sans asked sarcastically knowing there wasn’t any ‘course of action’ they could take.

“As a matter of fact I did,” Boss huffed, knowing where he was going with this.

“Oh, really?” He mocked gruffly, “Well, I’m all ears.”

“ _I_ decided that in light of our current high level of alert that the guard’s weaker members, A.K.A _you,_ are no longer allowed on patrol without a higher officer accompanying you.”

“What?” He deadpanned.

“Also, seeing as we are currently down on crucial members and the given the circumstances, you will be on patrol duty starting tomorrow morning.”

“’scuse me?”

“Considering the dogs want nothing to do with you at the moment, I will be your designated partner for the duration of these regulations.”

“The fuck?” Sans almost _laughed_! He wasn’t really hiding his motive here.

“Also, I will be confiscating one month’s worth of your salary.”

“…Why?”

“Why do you care?” Boss retorted, his strong posture leading the way. “If Grillby’s is burned down, what are you going to spend it on?”

Sans paused indignantly for a second in the middle of the wet road, before realizing stopping was a poor decision when he didn’t know what might be lurking nearby. He rushed to catch up, pacing Boss’ strides like everything was normal. “’Yer a jackass, ‘ya know that?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter:  
> Weaknesses will always be exploited.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
> 
>  
> 
> I promised a downward spiral! And so it begins...


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHANGELOG: Minor updates to Chapter 12  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> Mandatory Recap:  
> Instead of a chapter, we read a manual on How to Never Use a Cock Ring.  
> Disclaimer: Please never do that to a real boy. Sans has a magic dick, okay?  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
> 
> We set a new chapter length record! Whoo?! Grab a blankie and some hot cocoa! But be warned; all Arc Two warnings apply to unlucky chapter number thirteen!

 

 

  _“Still sulkin’?” He pestered, smiling sheepishly at the little form unmoving on his bed of rags._

_Pap was giving him the silent treatment since he’d gotten home. He told him he’d play with him today, but around noon a better opportunity presented itself. So, Sans had run some errands for a stranger in town. It had eaten up the rest of his time and he’d missed their playdate by a longshot. Almost an entire day later to be exact._

_Pap didn’t seem to care that the detour had provided them dinner._

_He inched closer, hovering, but Papyrus didn’t turn back towards him. He laid stiff as board, facing the wall. “’Ya gonna forgive me?”_

_“No. Never.” Papyrus growled while not looking at him._

_He crawled closer, flopping down to the floor. Half sprawling himself on top of the little form. Melodramatically, he whined, “Awww. C’mon, Pap.” He wrapped an arm around the little body, half hugging him in with an arm which he jostled trying to get his attention. He baited a promise, “We can play tomorrow.”_

_Nothing._

_“C’mon. Don’t be a brat,” He begged, burying his head in the little form._

_Ignored._

_He sighed at his unresponsive sibling, “I_ had _‘ta go, Pap. I’ll play with ‘ya la–”_

_“That’s not why I’m mad!” Pap spun around to glare at him, piercing red eyes locked onto his. Pouting up at him._

_Sans froze at the rather serious outburst. Arm stiffly held around the child._

_The little bones seethed at him for a minute, shaking an abnormal amount. He slapped his hands angrily into Sans’ chest, shoving him away. “You… You didn’t tell me you weren’t going to be here! You ditched me!” His effort to seem angry failed terribly because his tiny fists clutched onto the front of Sans’ shirt like he didn’t want him to go. Clinging onto him. “You didn’t tell me where you were! I didn’t know where to find you! I thought you’d –I thought.”_

_Sans rolled onto his back, pulling the little bones into a hug. Letting the weight pin him down. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere,” He promised softly, staring guiltily at the ceiling as Pap whimpered in his arms. He had taken so long, Papyrus thought he’d abandoned him._

_He understood his fear all too well._

_“-Hic!- were you just going to leave me here?!” His little brother faded, the cry echoing around the empty room. The sob replaced by a dull, impartial buzz. Alone now, but still pinned._

_-zzzzzrrr-_

_–_

 

 

Sans’ eyes snapped open, jarring him out of the dream into a cold sweat. A spasm shook violently through his frame, lurching him awake. “Fuck,” he breathed, curling in on himself. He felt like his soul just took a dive into his gut and back. At least he’d woken up this time. Apparently, even subconsciously, he had viscerally refused to let that dream morph into a worse, more recent nightmare. Unlike the others he hadn’t saved himself from.

For the past three days he’d been plagued by a similar dream. Every. Single. Night.

He’d be with Papyrus. They’d be happy. Then, it would take a terrible turn. The scenery would change. Replaced by everything from being beaten by Boss to being intimately involved with him. No… actually they all ended with him being intimately involved with him. Some were just more violent than others. It was a whole new onslaught of nightmares. He used to wake up screaming horrifically without a memory to back up why.

He missed those. He wanted _those_ nightmares back.

These were just awful.

He didn’t want to remember anything. He didn’t want to stain something important to him. He didn’t want to ruin the memories he had with his little brother. He only wanted to access those after he’d drunk himself into a stupor at the bar and was too far gone to ruin them with extra thoughts –where he could just, simply, _relive_ them.

But they kept coming back.

Every. Night.

Often they’d leave him flushed and embarrassed with a real, _non-_ imaginary problem on his hands. Luckily, Boss hadn’t caught him in the act since, but the side-effects were really starting to take their toll. And every single time, without fail, he would wake up significantly unrested. Especially since Boss was waking him up earlier to drag him around on patrol with him in the earliest hours of the morning. He was being worn down steadily.

It was like he hadn’t even slept at all.

So it was no surprise to him that, on the fourth night, he had sprawled himself across his bed, heavy bags under his sockets as he stared unblinking at his wall trying to decide if he should even bother attempting to fall asleep at all. If he wasn’t even getting rested for it; why put himself through all the trouble? At this point, it had been stupid to consider that this might have been the one night that he _didn’t_ dream about Papyrus. Right?

He must have drifted off.

 Cursing himself for his own stupidity. He purposely rearranged himself into a more uncomfortable position on the bed. Trying to fend off a growing fatigue. Which could have been related to his soul. He didn’t know what was wrong with it either. He’d checked like twenty times to make sure he still only had one HP; he did.

He didn’t even know what the fuck was wrong with him anymore! Too many things at once; clearly… Were the dreams and the leaking related? Had he hit some weird new life stage? He’d never heard of monsters leaking instead of dusting before, but the first time he’d been in heat, he’d never heard of that either.

The Underground wasn’t exactly the most helpful of places. It wasn’t like there had been some monsters who taught them how anything worked. They’d grown up orphans! Sans, being the oldest, just stumbled into all these things blindly first.

So, he didn’t know what he was feeling! Much like now, he’d been so fucking terrified the first time he’d gone into heat. He didn’t know what it was; he just knew literally any monster could kick off weird sparks within him. But those feelings were foreign. They all made him uneasy. So, he didn’t act on any of them. They just built and built and built until he thought he was going insane. He was afraid of turning those sullied thoughts on Papyrus. So, he ran away from him. If he hadn’t run into Grillby when he did, who knows what could’ve happened to him?

He’d really lucked out landing Grillby as a first. The guy could be a big softie. Not only did he help him out, he also sat him down and explained everything to him. At the time, he hadn’t realized there was any relation to his soul glowing and his feelings. He never thought they were natural. He just thought there were a bunch of _different_ things wrong with him at once. Insanity being top of the list.

So, with that in mind, could there be some sort of relation between his soul cracking and the strange dreams? Or had he finally gone mad and his mind was just reflecting that?

Damn. He wasn’t sure.

He just knew his body wasn’t behaving correctly. His soul was cracking, but not his body. He’d leak instead of dust. He wasn’t getting rested; he was being plagued by strange dreams that left him aroused. But when he fixed _that_ issue, his magic would linger around a lot longer instead of dissipating, much like it would during a heat.

Were there different _kinds_ of heats?

Could he ask Grillby about this?  Would he even understand? The guy didn’t really seem to dust like normal monsters; he just sort of, well, burned. He was an elemental. His physiology was different, wasn’t it? Also, could he even _trust_ Grillby with the information that his soul was crumbling away?

He frowned. He didn’t really want to risk it.

He’d told Grillby a lot of things over the years. They got along great, sure, but the guy also put himself first when it came down to it –which was normal. Everyone did. The bartender had already shaken Sans down to his very last cent to pay off his enormous tab so that he could start trying to rebuild the local bar.

He didn’t care that it left Sans broke.

But Grillby had also let him sponge off him up until now, too. He wasn’t a bad guy, he just wasn’t always dependable. He was more of a listener than a problem-solver –and a fickle one at that. Sans supposed he didn’t want to chance telling him potentially dangerous information. Especially when he might be looking for ways to make more money for his own needs. Information trade could be lucrative, after all. Who had more dirt on people than a bartender? It probably wouldn’t be long before Grillby made enough gold to fix the bar. He bet the dogs would pay a pretty price for some dirt on him right about now. Best not to say anything. The only person he could trust unfailably with that sort of secret was…

…Papyrus.

But that was pretty much off the table at this point.

Boss already had his hands full of Sans-related problems. He was already working overtime to try and fix all the issues Sans had already caused. He’d been running maintenance, deterrence, and interference between Sans, the dogs, the Guard, Grillby, and practically the entire fucking village since the bar incident. He knew; because he’d been dragged around on Boss’ relentlessly busy schedule for the past four days. They wouldn’t even be able to get most of it done if Sans hadn’t been able to teleport them from chore to chore. He didn’t think the Lieutenant could _handle_ much else –and that was generously _setting aside_ how Sans felt about telling Papyrus about any of this to begin with.

His reaction to finding Sans masturbating to him hadn’t exactly been _pleasant._ So, he didn’t feel particularly inclined to tell him he’d been having lewd dreams about him every night since, too. Or that he’d been injured enough to know that he was leaking strange fluid instead of dusting. Or that, even though he was miraculously still alive; he was probably dying.

Boss would lose it.

Sans was on his own.

Yet he didn’t have any bright ideas. He just knew he didn’t want to sleep and go through the whole process all over again. At the same time, he was so tired all he wanted to do _was_ sleep. Forever, if possible.

He buried his head miserably into the mattress, avoiding the pillows, trying to drown out his noisy thoughts. He laid still for several minutes without falling into slumber. Despite his best efforts, he was almost asleep again when a sound rescued him. Drifting through the otherwise stiff and stagnant air of the bedroom.

_tat-tat tat._

It was faint. The slightest noise in an otherwise dark and silent night. He turned his face, alert now, listening, but nothing came. Okay. Maybe he _should_ get some sleep if he was hearing things. If he’d hit the point of hallucinations; it was well past bedtime.

_tat-tat-tat tat._

It almost sounded like tapping, but not on a wall. On a harder surface. He blinked his eyes open, warring with himself if he should try to block it out or try to investigate a noise he may or may not have heard. An equal pause passed. Then, he heard it louder.

_Rat tat-tat-tat tat._

_tmp. sscchuuUUUU—_

The sound of the window opening.

His soul dropped. There was only one in his bedroom; a little too close for comfort.

Sans practically flew out of the covers as the glass screeched along the frame’s grooves. With the help of gravity, he was on his feet within a second, backed into the far wall by the bedroom door. Six dangerously sharpened red bones flared into existence around him, bathing the room in a red glow. Each trained on the intruder climbing through the window over the head of his bed.

The black figure paused straddling the window sill, small legs dangling over the side. They tilted their head at him curiously for the briefest second.

“Don’t worry,” The cloak said in a robotic voice as they hopped completely through the window. While they _continued_ to break in. “It’s just me.”

“T-that _ain’t_ reassurin’,” He hissed at them, not lowering his weapons for a second.

They seemed to pause at that, as if their batteries ran out. Slowly, the child turned to look at him. “It’s not?”

“ _Hell no,”_ He bit out between fangs as he bristled, backing further towards the wall as they welcomed themselves inside. His bones still trained and ready.

As if this practical, normal common sense just dawned on them, what was visible of their mouth formed a little O, holding the stunned expression. “Ah.” Their throat regurgitated the curt, yet faint, noise of recognition. “I forgot.”

“’Ya forgot ‘ya weren’t supposed to climb through a stranger’s window in the middle of the night?!” Sans snapped at them incredulously.

They looked awkwardly down at their hand, turning it over, before wiping some dirt off on their shorts. Then, the child took several steps towards him, placing themself unsettlingly close. Unfortunately, like before, Sans didn’t have the gall to attack a child. Even one this crazy. They managed to look _just_ harmless enough not to get a bone fired straight through their empty skull as they approached.

But, remaining defensive, Sans shuffled away from them along the wall. Distrustfully eyeing them. Standing much closer, the child regarded his skittish nature. They stopped advancing. Quietly, they assured, “I’m just some harmless kid.”

Sans couldn’t stop the immediate condescending snort. He wouldn’t exactly refer to them as ‘harmless’. Plus, who would trust anyone who announced themselves as “harmless”?

 “See?” They opened their arms in a defenseless gesture, showing empty hands, allowing him a good view of their striped shirt, jean shorts and small body behind the cloak.

They sure did know how to make him feel like an idiot. He knew they were just a child. He didn’t need proof! They were clearly in the wrong here, but seeing the little hands and body made him _feel_ like he was the stupid one for being wary of them. It wasn’t like they hadn’t already had a dozen chances to harm him and yet chose not to do so each time. He was probably overreacting.

The bones dissipated. The light snuffed out.

Not because he let them go! Certainly not because he felt _safe_ around this kid who broke in. But because he failed to properly hold onto them in his fatigued state. His crimson eyes darted nervously to his now defenseless sides, before they landed suspiciously on the intruder as if they might take this opportunity to end him. Soul pounding loud in his head.

They, of course, seemed to take the lack of weapons as a good sign. The small cloaked child walked forward, outstretching the hand they’d cleaned towards him. But even though he’d seen them wipe the dirt off on their shorts only a moment ago, the hand was still scuffed and dirty, damaged by burns or some other early sign of scarring.

A brief pang of guilt laced through him at the sight. They’d probably gotten it from the barfight. Sans had dragged them around with him rather relentlessly, rolling around as embers licked the floor without even realizing they’d been suffocating on the fumes. He’d really done the bare minimum to keep them safe during the fight. They’d even _literally_ caught on fire at one point.

But that was no reason to attack him, right?! His previous failings didn’t excuse their current actions!

He flinched. Pressed himself flush against the wall.

They didn’t grab him. Or hit him. Or attack. Their hand stopped, halfway, extended out towards him.

“My name is Frisk,” The child stated, offering the hand regardless of its condition. “It’s nice to meet you, Sans the Skeleton.”

This was hardly the time or place for introductions. Were they actually _casually_ greeting him after crawling through his window? Sans’ crimson eyes darted down to their hand, then back to their face, then back to their hand, trying to gauge if “Frisk” was actually serious or not. Their face was, of course, perfectly emotionless.

So, he could only assume that they were.

He didn’t take their hand. Why now, anyway? Technically they’d already met. ‘Nice to meet you’ didn’t really seem like the right phrase. Nervously, and quite confused, he cautiously questioned, “What do ‘ya think yer doin’?”

“Introducing myself.” They responded simply. At his baffled expression they elaborated, “Because you don’t like it when a stranger enters your room, Sans the Skeleton.”

Introducing themselves _after_ the fact hardly fixed the issue. Especially when they cleverly omitted the part about breaking in.

“Not the point,” Sans growled at them through pointed fangs, still pinned to the wall. Why was he still looking for some meaning to this kid’s antics at this point? They were clearly insane. Yet he tried again. “Why are ‘ya _here_?”

“I was in the area,” They stated. Face still deadpan and lifeless.

Again, not really a qualifying reason to climb through someone’s window.

“Ya’ve got some balls ‘ta break into the Lieutenant’s house,” He threatened. Hoping the subtle hint might turn them away.

“Papyrus isn’t home right now.”

He didn’t know if they’d meant that to be reassuring. It wasn’t. He felt like something dropped into his empty gut. That was news to him. He hadn’t even heard him go. When had Boss left? So, he was alone with this little weirdo?

Slowly, he cautiously pushed himself away from the wall, trying to keep any unease he felt off his face. He folded his arms in front of himself. The stocky skeleton looked down at the slightly shorter threat, weighing his options. Maybe he didn’t have to worry too much? For all their insanity, they did still sort of act like a child –even if they were a rather disobedient one. So, he looked down at them as if he were scolding them. “How’d ‘ya get in?”

Their expression didn’t budge as they relayed a response bound in facts, “I climbed onto the back awning. You left your window unlocked.”

For fuck’s sake. The roof tiles were iced and slippery. “That’s dangerous. ‘Yer gonna fall,” He mumbled. _Actually_ scolding them this time. He might as well buy himself time until Boss got back.

“I have a lot of practice,” Frisk reassured.

“’Ya _practiced_ climbing up ‘ta my window?”

“Yes.”

“’Ya’ve got to be the weirdest stalker I’ve ever seen,” He sighed jadedly, shrinking his hands into his pockets. Eyeing them suspiciously up and down, but they really didn’t seem to have any weapons out. Nor were they giving off any aggressive vibes whatsoever.

“I’m not a stalker,” They countered without a trace of emotion in their voice. It was just a simple statement; stated as if it were the truth.

They were awfully good at lying, weren’t they?

He raised a skeptical brow at them. “Do ‘ya remember what the _price_ for that information I gave ‘ya was, kid?”

They nodded once, repeating, “Don’t let you find me at your station.”

“ _Wrong_ ,” He snarled at them. “’Ya were supposed ‘ta leave me alone! As in; don’t bother me ever again. ‘Ya know; as in, don’t crawl through my fuckin’ window in the middle of the night.”

“Oh,” They stated emotionlessly, with zero inflection in their voice. “I seem to have mixed up the condition of our deal,” They announced aloud.

Why did he feel like he was listening to a rehearsed answer? Then again, everything they said sounded scripted. As if they’d read it straight off a paper a dozen times.

However, after being corrected of this error; they didn’t leave. They walked away from him, freeing him up from the wall. The child made their way over to his bed. Where they sat on his mattress casually as if they were comfortably familiar with his room, bobbing childishly up and down atop his mattress to test its buoyancy.

Yup. Clearly not leaving.

Sans sighed heavily, treading over towards them. He could run, but he didn’t want to leave them unattended. Who knows what they might get into. He might as well stall. “An’ what prompted ‘ya to ‘ _visit_ ’ at this hour?”

They looked at him almost eagerly. “I brought you some food-“

“I don’t want it,” He countered immediately.

Seemingly ignoring him, they dug through the bottom of their inventory. “Yes, you do,” They corrected, rifling through the bag. “It’s been several days since you’ve eaten, hasn’t it?”

It had been three to be exact. Grillby had robbed him blind to rebuild the bar. Without the bar, he realized in the recent days how heavily he had relied on the local shops for food. He’d barely had any groceries left in the house -a single bag of chips to be exact- which he’d managed to empty on the first day. Now he had no money left to buy any more with.

There _was_ still food in the house that he could cook with –which all belonged to Boss. Yet even though he’d been following him around for days, his brother hadn’t once suggested a meal. Boss was the kind of guy who could run days on end with no sleep or snacks. Since his schedule was particularly busy; that seemed to be exactly what he was doing. A real workaholic. When Sans _wasn’t_ accompanying Boss around, he found himself pacing in front of the refrigerator wondering if a punishment was worth stealing a few ingredients or if he should just wait until Boss asked him to cook.

It never seemed worth another punishment.

Not the point.

The point was that, considering Boss hadn’t even noticed, no one but he himself should know how hungry he was.

The child pulled forth a treat, wrapped in a plastic wrapper that crinkled between their fingers. They offered it to him, peering into their bag, “I have some others, too.”

Sans didn’t take it. He glared at them hard, but a simple glare hardly removed them from his furniture.

The cloak retracted the treat when it had been too long since he didn’t take the offer. They popped open the package he’d abandoned and began to eat it themselves.

Sans shook his head sadly, watching them make themselves at home. Reluctantly, he sat down on the end of the bed, hands stuffed awkwardly into his pockets. Still glaring at them, he grumbled, “This ain’t yer bed ‘ya know. ‘Yer droppin’ crumbs all over it.”

“I know. It’s yours,” They took a bite out of the treat, then stated with a full mouth, “I’m glan I founn you innit.”

“…What?” Most of their answers were short, too logical, but still easy to understand. This one wasn’t.

With some trouble, the child swallowed their too big bite. “I meant I’m glad you’re still alive.” They explained naturally, while not even looking at him. Too invested in the treat as they took several smaller bites as if they hadn’t eaten for as long as he had.

Sans glanced off to the side, almost feeling guilty for suspecting them. They were the one who wanted to team up at the bar, after all. He hunched over himself. “Is _that_ why ‘ya s-stopped by?” To check up on him?

“Pretty much,” they mumbled past a mouth full of crumbs.

There were nicer, more tactful ways to say you were worried about someone. They didn’t have to use any of those. Sans felt embarrassed with just that.

He grunted some vague affirmation that he understood as he leaned back on the mattress, relaxing into it in a more comfortable position. Maybe he didn’t really have to worry about them _at all?_

He knew he probably shouldn’t get too close to them, but it was hard to view them as a threat while they munched away on a sweet like a hamster stuffing its cheeks full. As he leaned back, his hand accidentally crinkled the empty wrapper. He picked up the plastic, inspecting the empty package. It was definitely one of those cheap, quickly made treats you could buy a dime a dozen at any store or vending machine.

After finishing, they reached into their pack, pulling out more of the same junk food. He wondered how many they had in there. Or if they’d stolen the lot of them. They popped the package open and started eating this one, too.

“Do ‘ya only have sweets in there?” He asked with a furrowed brow, “‘Ya realize that’s a terrible diet ‘fer a kid, right?” Even slouching, he was still bigger than them. If just barely. It wasn’t often he was taller than someone. So, a devilish grin snaked it’s away across his fangs. He teased, “I bet that’s why yer so tiny.”

Frisk stopped eating mid-bite, staring off into the empty space in front of them. Sans almost flinched at their sudden reaction –thinking he’d said too much, he slouched cautiously away.

After an empty, thoughtful pause, they pondered aloud, “I suppose I should live off a diet of mustard and beer.”

There may not have been any emotion, but he could read the sarcasm laced through the words loud and clear.

He dropped the empty package, leaning in dangerously as a growl rumbled deep in his throat. “ _Hey_ ,” He bit out between his fangs in warning. They were calling him small, weren’t they?

Somehow, they just looked proud of themselves. Not afraid of him in the slightest.

“’Yer a fuckin’ brat,” Sans sulked, falling exhaustedly back to the mattress. It had been so long, he’d forgotten how draining it could be talking to children. No, maybe just talking to _them_ was particularly annoying?

The kid pulled out another sweet from their pack, hovering it over his face. “Eat something.”

He didn’t take it. “Why?” He grumbled. It wasn’t like he was going to grow.

“You’ll cuss less if your mouth is full.”

The skeleton swatted the package away, snorting out a little redundant laugh, “’Ya ain’t gonna get me to eat anythin’ like _that_.”

“I know,” They stated emotionlessly, “but I thought I might get you to smile if I said it that way.” Then, for the record, Frisk leaned in, adding, “I did.” They resumed their incessant munch on the snack, spilling even more stray crumbs onto his mattress. They ate with a quick pace, like they really were squelching their own gnawing hunger. But if they’d been walking around with a pack full of food, Sans couldn’t see why they’d be so hungry.

 “Slow down,” He reprimanded. “There’s no need to eat so fast. ‘Yer droppin’ crumbs everywhere.”

“I don’ haf a lot o’ tyme,” Frisk responded, mouth full.

“What’s the rush?”

As if on cue, a large flower with yellow petals and a face appeared at the open window. Sticking the head of its bulb around the frame to peer suspiciously into his room. Somehow, the sight of the foreign, abnormal creature made Sans go rigidly tense.

“Frisk!” The yellow flower hissed from the window, killing their easy mood with an urgent squeak. It glanced nervously over its petal into the night. “Times up. Let’s go.”

Frisk spared a glance at them over their shoulder. Then turned back to gobble down the rest of their food with one hand as they dug frantically through their inventory with the other. They hurriedly threw some identical snacks onto his bed, sloppily discarding five or so of the treats onto his mattress. “I’m going to leave these here,” They said through a mouthful of roll.

 “I said I don’t want it,” Sans glowered at them, growling “ _Hey,_ ” as they started burying him under a small pile of snacks.

“Frisk!” The flower beckoned, annoyed at how slowly they were moving. They seemed to dance impatiently, whining, “Time’s up. Let’s go!”

The child ignored the antsy flower, busily sorting which treats they were leaving and which they were taking. “Here,” They insisted pressing the snacks towards him. “You can have the cinnamon flavored ones.”

 “I ‘ain’t eatin’ it,” Sans grumbled, pushing back.

The flower sighed exasperatedly as if every word Sans spoke took a year off their life.

“I’m busy,” Frisk pressed the treats back harder, forcing them on him. Cautioning in their emotionless voice, “These are the only snacks I can deliver for a while-”

“Are ‘ya crazy?” Sans chuckled dully, speaking over them and the crinkling tug of war. He already knew the answer to that, though. He shoved back. “Don’t deliver anymore! _Don’t_ even deliver these-“

“-Unless you come with me,” they continued. Hood staring emptily at him as they pressed back. “Right now.”

The serious way they stated it, made him pause, allowing the lot of them to topple back down to the mattress. It was like the air got sucked somewhere dark. Everything they said held no real inflection or sentiment, but, somehow, the offer sounded real –and particularly dangerous. Like they might just kidnap him. It landed with a heavy mood. Naturally, he pulled back, stuttering after a clever retort, but the words didn’t come out.

Frisk watched him stammer expressionlessly for several seconds. His inability to outright _refuse_ must have spoken volumes. The slightest, saddest smile quirked their mouth for a second, “Do you _want_ to get out of here?”

The question hit the nail on the head. He flinched guiltily, stutter dying off. Looking up at them with huge sockets.

Then, their brief smile fell. Stiffening the thin line of their mouth back into stillness. “I’m sorry. I’m only joking,” They stated in their emotionless voice. “Stay here with Papyrus, ok?” They bundled their remaining supplies together and hopped off the bed.

Sans snapped back to reality, realizing the packages strewn around him, “H-hey! I s-said I don’t want ‘em.”

They didn’t make any move to retrieve the articles. The kid made their way back over to the window, ignoring him. “You should hide them before Papyrus gets home. You don’t want him to find them,” They warned, stating it like a fact.

As the small child approached, the flower frowned at them, muttering, “This is why I said we shouldn’t come.” Then, the vine scurried beneath their cloak, vanishing.

Frisk continued as if they hadn’t heard the flower’s opinion at all. “They’ll fit under your mattress. Squished food is better than no food, right?” With that, the child hopped out the window, disappearing from sight.

A faint rattling noise could be heard as they slid down the shingles of the back awning. Sans rushed to the window, but the only glimpse he caught of them was the end of their cloak as it slipped off the end of the roof into the night.

Sans tried to spot them, but he couldn’t see anything else in the darkness. After an uneasy stall, he decided to shut the window, locking it behind them this time. Better to keep the crazies out. He turned around to the mess of treats on his mattress, staring at the crumbs littered all over his bed, baffled.

No matter how much he blinked; the small mountain of food remained.

Before he could come to the conclusion that Frisk’s strange visit, as brief as it was, definitely wasn’t a dream since it didn’t follow the usual dreadful pattern; he heard a click from downstairs.

The front door.

It must have been Boss coming back in since the kid had said he wasn’t here. The kid had _also_ said he didn’t want Boss to find the food. His red eyes flicked nervously to the packages strewn across his mattress.

They were right.

He _didn’t_ want Papyrus to find it. He’d wonder where it came from. He might think Sans had left the house without permission or wonder where he’d gotten the money to buy it. He might think Sans was whoring himself without his consent. And he certainly wouldn’t be content with the truth: That a small child broke in through his window in the middle of the night specifically just to leave him their cinnamon-flavored snacks.

Again, Sans wasn’t listening to the kid’s insane ramblings; he was using common sense!

He rushed to the bed and started stuffing the plastic packages under the mattress, like he was frantically hiding some indecent magazine. In his rush, he dropped one and just kicked that one under the bed as well, flopping the mattress down over them. However, there was still a splay of crumbs all over his sheets. Frantic that he’d never clean them all up in time before Boss got to his room, Sans did the next best thing. He made sure Boss wouldn’t have a reason to come into his room in the first place; by teleporting himself to the top of the staircase.

He gripped the railing of the banister right as Boss turned away from the door after locking it.

“H-Hey, Boss,” Sans greeted awkwardly from the top of the staircase. Trying to pick which lax pose seemed the most casual. “Wel-welcome back.”

Boss’ piercing red eyes flicked up to the top of the staircase. “What are you doing up?” He snapped, voice irritated.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. Oh, yeah. Boss wouldn’t even expect to see him up at this time, would he? This was all probably an entirely unnecessary venture. Had he let what the kid said get to his head? Was this behavior too strange?

…As strange as the kid’s?

Suddenly uncertain, he shifted uncomfortably on his feet, eyes glancing off to the side. Boss and him hadn’t really had many proper conversations in the past few days. None Sans had initiated himself. “Oh, ya’know, c-couldn’t sleep.”

“You’d better. We’ve got work in the morning,” Boss retorted, unfastening his red boots and dropping them next to the door. “I don’t want to have to wake you up again.”

Well, fuck. Sans didn’t want him to do that, either. Especially, not lately. Not with the dreams. “’Ya don’t g-gotta do that. I’ll be fine on m-my own,” the small skeleton muttered, rubbing the back of his skull awkwardly as he hunched over the railing above the stairs.

Boss snorted a condescending grunt of disapproval. Implying Sans would remain useless and never be able to wake up without his help –which he hadn’t managed to do yet.

The insult hit a bit too close to home. A bit jadedly Sans grumbled, “What’re _you_ doin’ up this late, then? Don’t’cha got work in the mornin’, too?” As he nervously twiddled his thumbs along the stair rail that he clutched close.

“Obviously, I’m up because of work,” Boss replied rolling his eyes as if his full set of armor hadn’t been evidence enough.

Sans blinked as if he were just realizing the attire. He was _still_ working? It was the middle of the night! Well, he supposed there was nothing _else_ he could see Boss doing in his spare time. Crimson eyes cast to the floorboards, he tested uneasily, “What happened n-now?”

Boss glared up at him for a moment. Often Boss wouldn’t tell him about work because it was confidential. He’d gotten used to being brushed off over the years. He thought that’d be the case when the Lieutenant didn’t immediately reply. So, he sunk heavily into the railing. That would be the end of their short-lived conversation –as per usual.

But it wasn’t.

The tall skeleton walked up the stairs, each step a bit heavy as he relented, reciting, “They were a bit short of hands down in Hotland. So, I went to assist the search party clearing the Core.” He seemed to be carefully considering his words. It was weird he was telling him anything at all. He reached the top of the banister, turning towards Sans’ side of the hallway. He crossed his arms across each other, tapping a claw against his elbow. “Snowdin isn’t the only place that’s finding stray dust. Understand?”

Sans probably stared up at the towering skeleton too long without an affirmative answer.

So, Boss elaborated, “All of the current regulations still remain in effect.” His piercing red eyes glared down at him, demanding, “So, _don’t_ go stupidly running around in the middle of the night!”

Sans smartly swallowed down his, “ _I wasn’t!”,_ and replaced it with, “G-Got it, Boss.”

He wasn’t sure if that response passed because Boss stared angrily down at him for some time longer. Brow furrowed as he continued to tap the claw against his arm at a constant, annoyed pace. “ _Well_? Why are you up then?”

_Oh._ He didn’t believe him again.

He couldn’t exactly blame him for that either. Sans would probably have an easier time keeping track if he started counting the truths he’d told him in the past week instead of the lies. Add one half-truth to the score.

“I t-told ‘ya! I really just couldn’t get ‘ta s-sleep,” He grumbled, sinking his baggy eyes away from Boss’ distrustful gaze. Perhaps that was unfair if Boss was uncharacteristically offering him information, yet he still refused to tell him his side. He really didn’t want to elaborate. He didn’t want to tell him _why_ he couldn’t sleep.

If he had one more dream about Papyrus he was going to go insane.

“ _Hmmm_ ,” Boss hummed aloud in an annoyed tone, clearly unamused by his shitty acting.

He caught sight of the hands unfurl in his peripheral as Boss reached a claw out towards him. Reflexively, he stumbled away from it, swallowed by the void, and was three steps away from the danger in less than a second. Backed into the far wall of the hallway by the balcony door.

His terrified red irises flicked up the expanse to Boss’ distant scowl, his large hand still hovering in the air. The tall skeleton’s face fell several intervals darker into a heavy grimace.

Aw, shit. He’d moved without thinking. Boss hated it when he ran from him. He tensed for the certain retaliation. Breath caught.

Hovering in the air, the gloved claw twitched once in anger. Before, slowly, being lowered down to Boss’ side, his face a tense mask barely contained rage. Sockets shadowed, yet his piercing red eyes glared daggers into the small skeleton across the hall for a full minute as he seethed.

When he spoke his voice was low and dark. Slowly biting out each word, “Did you just _run_ from me?”

Sans’ eyes were locked on Boss’ scowl like he was staring into a head on collision with a train. If he wasn’t truly scared before; he was now. “S-sorry, Boss!” He blurted out, pressing himself further into the back wall, smiling disarmingly.

The little skeleton’s big eyes were innately drawn down to the glove that curled into a tight fist at the intimidating figure’s side. Then, as if remembering the real threat, his eyes flicked back up to his face, trying to calculate how much trouble he was in through the rage on his expression alone. But, that wasn’t _just_ rage there.

There was some other emotion flitting behind the light of his red gaze. What was that? Not just rage and frustration, but …Disappointment?

What? Had he upset him? - _Well, he always did that_ \- but _really_ upset him? As in trouble him? As in _hurt_ him? Suddenly, that dangerous scowl seemed a lot more like a childish pout. _Like the one in the dream._

Sans’ usual, carefree smile fell immediately, stunned into shock. His hand slipped down the wall in surprise. So, he ended up stumbling for his balance. “I-I just kinda m-moved without thinkin’,” He blubbered out guiltily. Taking several steps towards his brother. He had to make up an excuse. “It was an accident!”

The gaze hardened and the glimpse of his little brother was gone, swallowed by Boss’ usual demeanor. Sans froze. Ah. What was he thinking? This wasn’t Pap. This was Boss. The dark-clad figure stalked towards him.

Sans could have pressed himself back to the wall, but he didn’t want to. If even an ounce of his little brother was left in there, he didn’t want Boss to think he was running from him. So, he held his ground as the shadow fell over him.

The click of footsteps stopped and Boss yanked his face up with a gloved hand. Sans winced, but no pain other than the pinch of the claw around his chin followed. Yet he grit his teeth and strained his face like it did, anticipating worse.

He really didn’t want to be touched right now. In any capacity.

 Boss turned his head from side to side, looking down at his face. “There’s bags under your eyes.”

 “Y-Yeah,” Sans stuttered out, twisting his face until he’d pulled himself out of Boss’ grip. Thankfully, he let him go without grabbing his skull again.

He couldn’t take this proximity anymore.

“Can’t sleep. ‘member?” He asked a bit irritably, eyes flicking up quickly to the towering skeleton before falling again. He took a step back, leaving as much distance between himself and the other body as possible while still looking natural.

The other still hovered nearby, but didn’t press close. “Is that all that’s wrong with you?”

No. There were a lot of things. “Yeah.” He took half a step back further.

Boss studied his face for some time longer. Eyes boring into the small, nervous skeleton inching down the hall on shaky legs, despite the forced casual expression. “Come with me,” He snatched Sans’ arm, dragging him down the hallway _towards his room_.

Not again.

His soul sunk. Plunged into a cold void somewhere dark and chilling. He dug his feet in, throwing all his weight back against the pull. “H-h-hey! Cut it out!”

Annoyed, Boss clamped his hand down around his wrist and simply pulled him harder. The bone creaked under the pressure. Sans slid down the hallway behind him. Terrified, all his protests fell silent. His soul started racing, but it felt dead cold. No. He couldn’t do that again. He couldn’t go back there. Panicked, he twisted, yanked, and then tried to rip his hand out of the talon’s hold so forcefully he would have snapped it off if the claw hadn’t let him go.

Luckily, hearing a desperate scuffle from behind, Boss did.

With the momentum of his fear, he fell backwards onto his ass. Smacking onto the floor.

Boss spun around, staring down at the breathless, frantic skeleton below him. He looked pissed. Sans panted up at him, chest heaving, sockets huge. Not sure if he needed to blurt out some other excuse again –because this one seemed too obvious to cover up.

Boss didn’t press it. “Just get some damn sleep!” He snapped out his order irritably, “I don’t want to have to deal with your lazy ass in the morning!”

“’Ya g-got it, Boss,” Sans replied instantly, tense and uncertain, staring after the lost glimpse of his little brother. He offered him a half-hearted smile, hoping that might redeem some sense of normalcy between them.

The terrifying, towering skeleton turned on his heel. Red cape billowing off his shoulders as he stomped away down the hallway, slamming his own bedroom door noisily behind him. The wood practically cracked. Sans didn’t peel himself off the floor until he was sure he wasn’t coming back out.

He never did.

Sluggishly, he returned to his own room, face planting the mattress which crinkled beneath him. Despite the order, he decided he’d be better off if he _didn’t_ sleep tonight. Or possibly ever. He couldn’t keep letting mere dreams interfere with his waking life.

This wasn’t how they _were_. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t _usual_ for them. When Boss took things too far; Sans would be arguing with him or cracking jokes by the next day –often by the same day. Boss was _supposed_ to be a hothead and Sans was _supposed_ to be too indifferent to let that get to him. That’s how they got along. He needed to snap out of this! He needed to get over it -like he always did. He needed to act fucking normal. For both their sake’s.

 

 

****

****

****

 “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“Don’t what, Boss?” Sans asked, shit-eating grin wide on his skull. He trailed several steps behind the black clad figure, instead of prancing along at Boss’ side like he usually did when they walked together. They were making their rounds about the town, but Sans hadn’t managed to keep pace with the Lieutenant all morning. He was too slow. Still, he was making an effort to keep things light and casual in the wake of last night. “Don’t tell ‘ya ‘bout the red ship and the blue ship that collided?”

Boss was seething at him. Sans knows he hates jokes.

That’s why he’s been telling them.

For an hour.

“Sans…” He called once again in warning.

“Heard both the crews got _marooned_.”

The last straw finally gone, Boss grabbed him roughly by the front of his coat, hauling him off the ground in one easy motion. “I told you to STOP!” He shook him violently. Swinging him this way and that. Rattling his bones, but not quite with whip-lash inducing intensity.

He doesn’t really hurt him.

Sans noted it was gentler than usual. Boss was going easy on him. Like always, he was careful not to do any real damage as he shook him. It was only when he was really, truly, mad that he might slip up like that. Plus, he’d never done that over something as small as a joke before.

That’s why Sans was convinced he secretly _loved_ his jokes.

This was where he laughed. This was where he should have laughed it off. He knew it was coming. Yet, despite his best efforts, panic seized his soul when Boss pulled him in. The little skeleton flinched his eyes closed. He curled in on himself, tucking his legs in. When the shaking motion yanked him too close to the taller skeleton, his legs landed against his chest. Instinctively, he pushed himself as far away as he could from him.

Effectively, kicking him in the chest.

Knowing he’d fucked up immediately, Sans froze still in that position. Tentatively, he opened his eyes to look down at his error. Past his coat, which was still bunched up where Boss was holding him aloft, Sans was practically horizontal. Head shoved a full body’s length away from his brother. One foot was propped up on the Lieutenant’s shoulder. The other sneaker square in the middle of his sharp skull.

F-f-f-f-f-fuck.

He hadn’t kicked him in the chest. He’d kicked him in the _face._

“A-“ A little squeak died in the back of his throat. He didn’t know what to _do._ He couldn’t believe he’d hit him at all –let alone in the head! He couldn’t think of a single time he’d ever really hit Boss, even when they roughhoused as kids. Nervous beads of sweat formed on his skull, but he was too terrified to move.

Slowly, Boss pulled his head back and Sans’ shoe slipped down off his face. His other leg skidded off his shoulder as well. The little skeleton fell completely limp in his grasp. Arms and legs dangling down, offering no way to defend himself. _Purposely_ lifeless with no offensive instincts left. Harmless. Boss held him up for a second more, at arm’s length, piercing red eyes glaring daggers at him. Then, he, very carefully, set Sans back down on his feet in the snow.

Sans didn’t move. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Boss’ scowl.

“What was that?” He rumbled dangerously.

“A-an accident?” Sans offered. He wasn’t sure how many times he could get away with that as an excuse.

Boss narrowed his eyes at him.

Apparently, not very long. “S-sorry, Boss,” He answered, casting his gaze down to the snow towards the offending foot. He didn’t know what other words of apology he could offer. He was supposed to be laughing by now. They were supposed to be normal by now. Yet he’d fucked it up. Again. He sunk his hands into his pockets dejectedly as the wind howling past seemed to bite a bit colder. “I d-didn’t hurt ‘ya, did I?” He asked timidly.

“As if you could possibly hurt me?” Boss scolded.

 “Right,” he smiled weakly, eyes still cast to his shoes. ‘Course he couldn’t. Somehow, that made him feel a bit better, but his smile still felt forced.

Damn. This wind felt cold.

“Head up. Stance straight,” The Lieutenant snapped at him almost urgently.

Sans obeyed. Lifting his head up and squaring his shoulders, though he kept his hands still shoved into his warm pockets. The order didn’t really sound like it was related to their previous conversation. Alert, he scanned the horizon, spotting a figure approaching them through the foggy haze of snow. Where the winds kicked up the ice and obscured their visibility.

It was Doggo.

He bounded up to the two of them quickly, skidding along the ice as if he were out of control with the speed, yet stopped the perfect distance away from them. “Sir!!!” he greeted, offering a too casual salute to Papyrus and throwing a vile glance Sans’ way. The little skeleton frowned back at him, but he was ignored. The solider continued, “An urgent report!!! We’ve found several bodies in the western woods, by the midway caves.”

 “What do you mean _‘bodies’_?” Boss demanded. His professional voice, low and calculating with a tint of a dangerous edge.

The guard, lax-stanced and casual, rested his paws on the multiple knives around his belt. Not quite in a threatening manner. A ready stance was typically how Doggo tended to stand, but the movement didn’t go unnoticed by Sans. “What do I mean???” He stressed as if to say ‘I meant exactly what I said.’ Then, repeated, “Several monster’s bodies have been discovered in the woods. They had all been attacked with various slash wounds and none of them are moving.”

“Then take one to the lab, fix it, and question it!” Boss snapped. Begging why he had to be bothered with this. Monsters fought all the time. It was hardly as important as the dust trails. Plus, he certainly didn’t appreciate his disrespectful tone.

“We can’t!!!” Doggo replied curtly, but didn’t say any more. Sans was certain he was holding out just to fuck with him. Doggo was the type who liked to mislead others. Keep them off their toes and stumbling around as blindly as him.

“Why. Not?” Boss hissed in one of the most deadly tones Sans had ever heard out of him. Voice dripping acid, he leaned in menacingly towards his subordinate. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to be fucked with.

 “Sir!!!” Doggo saluted, suddenly respectful. Perhaps he’d decided Boss wasn’t the best person to dick around with. Deciding _now_ to elaborate, “Their souls were all missing. There’s nothing left to heal.”

“What?” Sans asked, the word falling out his mouth.

Doggo remained at attention, refusing to answer anything from him. However, he shot down a murderous glare towards him for butting into a conversation between real guards. The look may have been a bit more vile than simply that, though. His mouth curled, baring his fangs down at the small skeleton.

“Elaborate!” Boss snapped, pulling his attention away from Sans. “The _souls_ ,” Papyrus demanded. “What do you mean they were missing?”

“They appeared to have been cut out of the chest, Sir,” Doggo reported dutifully.

Boss clicked his tongue. “Very well,” He hummed thinking. “Go deliver this message to Undyne as well.”

Doggo saluted. Then, sprinted past them into the fog.

“Private!” Boss called, catching him before he got too far. The guard froze stiff. The Lieutenant’s voice dropped to a tone as chilling as the wind, “You’d better report correctly next time.”

Sans recognized how a shiver ran down the dog’s spine at the command, realizing he’d _maybe_ tempted fate a little too much. He’d taken it as a threat from Boss instead of a warning. After all, _Undyne_ would kill him for such lack of discipline. She was more of a hothead than Boss ever was. Yet the Lieutenant remained misunderstood.

“Yes, SIR!!!” He belted out, dashing away.

Boss went silent, pondering for a second. Tapping a claw against his folded arms. A moment passed. “Sans,” He called, holding out one gloved hand to his side. He didn’t have to finish his thought. Sans knew what he wanted.

“’Ya got it, Boss,” He replied, reaching for the outstretched hand. Yet, halfway there, he hesitated. His fingers flinched involuntarily before he touched him, pulling back.

_He didn’t want to touch him._

He didn’t obey long enough that Boss looked questioningly down at him.

His hand was shaking, wasn’t it?

_Get it together._

He swallowed down an uneasy lump in the back of his throat. He snatched the hand, walking quickly past Boss before his gaze could linger too long. He pulled them through a shortcut. As the void flew past, he squeezed onto his passenger. He was terrified Boss would feel his hand shaking through the glove, but, as much as he wanted to let go, he didn’t. No matter how unhappy he was with Boss, there was no way he’d lose his little brother to the void.

The second they touched down in the snow, Sans dropped their hands apart quickly. He stepped back and behind Boss out of the way. The Lieutenant’s lingering gaze followed him until he had ducked out of sight, but the distinguished guard quickly snapped his attention forward to the immediate problem.

Sans peered past Boss’ leg. The other dogs could be seen up ahead, huddled around on the path towards the cave. The Lieutenant took off towards them, poised and regal, with a strong gait. Sans trailed awkwardly behind.

“Oh, look…” Dogaressa snarled sarcastically as they approached. Dark eyes falling onto him. She stood straight, but leaned heavily onto one of her axes, planted into the snow. Perhaps not quite recovered enough yet to stand easily on her own. Her fur was ruffled and scraggly. Unkempt unlike the usual way she kept it. The other guards, Greater and Lesser, looked beaten, too, but she looked twice as bad. She bared her fangs, “Not a scratch on him.”

Hostile, sure, but she was clearly mirroring the thoughts of the other battered guards. Unlike them, you couldn’t exactly beat Sans for disobedience. No matter how much you pulled your punches; a scratch would be fatal.

Boss veered course, stepping between the Runt and the other guards to intervene. He shielded Sans from their glares with his dark armor. “We’ve already been over this. Sans is just a sentry. Not an official guard. He has no obligation to fight off attackers. He does, however, have an obligation to report what he’s seen.”

“-Is murdering people part of the Runt’s job, too?-“

Boss ignored her and continued, narrowing his eyes dangerously, “In his failure to properly and swiftly report the events of your husband’s demise, I’ve already administered a fitting punishment.”

Sans would like to see where “vibrator and cock ring” were written down in the Royal Guard’s handbook as a proper punishment for poor reports, but he wisely held his tongue. He knew when he was being protected. Since it was often followed by that dull, sinking feeling in his gut knowing that Boss had to stick his neck out on the line to try and keep him safe every damn time something like this happened.

Looking at the dignified back shielding him now, he was certain his brother would have been a strong and popular leader if it wasn’t for him. Instead, it was like this. Guards trying to backstab him and subordinates jeering at him every time he came around.

“No other action shall be taken against him without proper evidence to back your claims. Are we clear?”

“Then, why don’t you explain that?” Dogaressa snarled, pointing to a motionless body sprawled in the snow. The victim was a quadruped who resembled a deer. Gryftrot, if Sans remembered his name correctly. A grumpy loner who lived on the outskirts of town. He’d run across him several times since his station was out this way. He was pretty sure the dozen slashes cut out of his skin were new. Plus, one of his antlers had been snapped off, though were it went, he couldn’t know. A hole had been carved deep into his chest. As the report stated, he imaged the soul was missing.

“That’s why we’re here,” Boss leveled, “I don’t see what this has to do with Sans.”

“Smells just like him,” Dogaressa snapped furiously. “His stench is all over the place!”

Lesser had wound his neck past Boss and shoved his beady little eyes in close to San’s face, nose going. The stocky skeleton leaned away from the sudden appearance. The mutt yipped once, loudly.

“See?” Dogaressa asked annoyed, as if the senseless yip meant something. She accusingly thrust a hand his way, “ _He_ smells like dust, too!”

Boss glanced past his shoulder at Sans, who didn’t have any expression he could offer him. Not only was he fucking clueless, he was too busy trying to dodge away from Lesser’s prodding nose. He’d already been caught by that neck once. He didn’t want to get coiled up in it again.

“Call him off,” Boss demanded. In a shimmer, a long crimson bone sword appeared in his hand. “Or I will.”

Dogaressa seethed at him.

“It wasn’t Sans. He was home last night,” Boss vouched firmly. Even though Boss himself hadn’t even been home last night.

Completely fuming, Dogaressa laid a hand gently on Lesser’s neck. He stopped chasing Sans, but still bobbed in the air, like a snake waiting to strike. Not truly retreating. That seemed to be good enough for Boss. He stalked forward fearlessly between the hounds, crouching down to inspect the empty body.

It wasn’t really good enough for Sans. Carefully, he stepped in a wide margin around the bobbing canine. But no matter how far around he circled, Lesser turned to face him. Never once breaking eye contact. Not even blinking. Creepy fuck.

“These are all slash wounds,” Boss confirmed, “Even the chest doesn’t look like a straight hole. Skeletons fight with bones. If this had been Sans’ work he’d be pelted with holes. Punctures not cuts.”

Dogaressa eyed the Lieutenant doubtfully, leaning heavily on her axe.  Her dark eyes staring intently at the long, crimson bone _sword_ grasped in Boss’ hand. Her reply was curt, unconvinced, and clearly unamused, “… _Sure_.”

Sans had danced almost a full one-eighty around Lesser, but the dog was still staring at him. Cautiously refusing to take his eyes off the predator, he didn’t realize how close he had side-stepped towards Greater until he was virtually under him. He practically jumped out of his bones when he heard heavy breathing behind him. He spun around to the hulking form which leaned down towards him. Sans uncomfortably felt like he was being pinned down by him as the form leaned in, pressing his face unnervingly close. Slobber and drool leaking off his chin as he stuck his nose in close to get a whiff of him. Disgusting!

As he was distracted, Lesser snaked in behind him. So, as he backed up, away from Greater, his butt tapped into the other’s nose behind him. He was getting surrounded by the nosy, pesky beasts. Unlike at the bar, this time, Dogaressa did nothing to stop them. She was just smugly letting them have their way with him as she pretended to not notice. Idly leaning on her supporting axe as the two superior officers inspected the body.

Not that Sans expected that she’d help him anymore.

He didn’t fucking like it when people got this close! With Greater’s heaping maw in front and Lesser behind, Sans quickly side-stepped out from in-between them. Face twisted in a repulsed manner. But Lesser’s neck was coiling around his legs, making it difficult for him to escape. He couldn’t get very far without feeling like he’d trip and fall over. Greater just shifted his maw in his direction, burying his soggy nose into Sans’ coat. Breath hot as he exhaled out a putrid pant.

“SANS!” Boss snapped viciously.

Sans was shoved back, awkwardly holding his weight far to the side with two hands on Greater’s face as he tried futilely to push him away. His legs were half coiled by Lesser’s neck, almost tripping him. Yet all three of them froze, looking over towards the sound of the Lieutenant’s voice when it split the air.

“ _Get over here,”_ He growled, like their current entanglement was somehow Sans’ fault.

He shoved the now distracted snout away and hopped quickly out of the inching coils of the neck, stumbling backwards through a shortcut. He landed behind Boss’ legs where he practically hid, glaring at the two dogs, now safely placed at a distance.

Boss wrapped a hand around the top of his skull, pulling him a little closer into his side. Honestly, Sans didn’t even feel comfortable with Boss touching him either, but he felt flinching away or displaying his displeasure in any form might show some form of weakness to the prowling dogs. Hinting at some rift in their alliance that might give the dogs an opportunity to strike. So, he let Boss tug him in without a complaint. Allowing the fingers to drum along the top of his cracked skull. He could swear Boss took advantage of it, hand wandering to rub along his temple, then drifting down to absently stroke his chubby cheek.

He tried not to flinch. Tried so hard to keep his expression as straight as he was able.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dogaressa seemed displeased he’d escaped. But made no outward movement to display that. She kept her idle, non-threatening position, propped against the axe handle. “Forgive them…” She said, “They like to play.”

That wasn’t just playing! They _weren’t_ animals. They’re fucking adults. Sans was certain they’d been trying to knock him over.

Boss changed the subject, steering them back towards the matter at hand. “Doggo said you’d found several bodies in the woods. Where’s the others?”

“They fell to dust not long before you got here... Their piles are a little further back up the path if you want to check them out.” Her dark eyes fell down to Sans, pressed in close to Boss’ side. “Well? Do you have anything to say about this? They were just children, you know… I wonder what you’d need their souls for?”

Sans glowered at her. “I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout this!”

“Where have I heard something similar?” She asked sarcastically.

“So, there’s some kind of time limit before the body falls?” Boss asked, keeping them on topic.

“Possibly…” Dogaressa speculated, glancing down at the remains of Gryftrot. “I’ve never seen a soul taken so far away from its body before. It’s unprecedented... I never even knew a soul could be stolen. It’s possible if it goes a certain distance away, the body falls?”

“Or whoever took ‘em’s, breakin’ ‘em,” Sans muttered.

Both officers looked at each other, as if the thought hadn’t passed their minds, then, down at Sans.

“I suppose that’s possible, too,” Boss agreed.

“Do tell…” Dogaressa said as if he were spilling his secrets, “Why break them after you went through all the trouble of getting them?”

Sans glared at her coy way of trying to make this sound like he’d done it. “I dunno,” He hissed at her hostilely, “It’s just speculation. Like the one where perhaps ‘ya killed all of ‘em just to blame it all on me?”

“Interesting _theory_ …” Dogareassa snarled back just as hostilely. “Especially when all the bodies stank of you.”

“Both of you, cut it out _now,_ ” Boss demanded in a stern voice. “This is serious. I don’t have time to listen to you two bicker!”

“So, we’re just… sweeping all the evidence that points to him under the rug?” She scoffed. Livid.

“Sans _didn’t_ do it,” Boss commanded in a dangerously chilling voice. As if he could order her into believing that with pure fear. It was hardly helpful. Threats just made Sans look more suspicious, even if he was innocent for once.

The conversation derailed into an argument that Sans wasn’t even a part of; even though it mostly seemed centered around him. Unable to get his voice in, he just dejectedly stared down at the motionless body at their feet. His crimson eyes trailed along the multiple cuts sliced out of the body. There was the faintest trickle of dust disintegrating at the edges of the wounds. As his gaze trailed up to the remaining antler, it rested on a vivid stain marring the snow and the opaque, red liquid dripping off the spikes of the antler. A familiar liquid.

Sans went rigid.

Boss, whose irksome hand still rested on his head, felt him tense. He looked down at the stocky skeleton nervously pressed in close to his legs. A talon angled his skull up to look at him. “Notice something?” He questioned, with a serious tone. He locked eyes with Sans’.

“…No,” Sans answered, self-consciously stuffing his bandaged hand into his coat pockets. “Just think it’s weird a monster would need another monster’s soul is all,” He had trouble tearing his eyes away from the red stain.

“Just listen to him!” Dogaressa barked. Whatever had held her idle, sarcastic mask in place had apparently snapped and she was back to a full on, single-minded, black rage like the day the bar had burned down. “You can’t possibly think he’s got nothing to do with this!” She bit out heatedly between a full row of fangs. The guard stepped away, lifting the enormous axe off the ground with a strong paw. It rested across her grip in a resting position, but the air went tense.

As Sans shifted his eyes cautiously to the sides, the other two dogs seemed to have picked up on their leader’s dissent. They seemed to hover in nearer menacingly at the sides like they were closing in on them. Surrounding them on all sides with superior numbers.

Sans felt that danger acutely. He loosened himself up, spreading his feet apart to lower himself into a ready stance. The dogs circled in. Low growls rumbling up from the growing tension around them. Sans kept track of the movements. To the left, Lesser’s beady eyes locked on him from the side. The other way, Greater’s feral gaze was particularly unsettling as he eyed him almost hungrily.

He was being singled out as the weak link.

With enough bones, he could probably form a wall around Greater, sectioning him off. That wouldn’t work with Lesser. He was sure he’d slip through. But, if they could incapacitate one, the fight would be even. Two on Two would be a fairer bet. He was ready to–

His concentration snapped.

A talon clamped down around his shoulder. Boss dug his claws harshly into his coat, shoving him violently behind him. Like he was throwing him out of the way. “Sans, go home,” He ordered curtly.

Sans stumbled backwards, his stance ruined. When he did get his feet under him, he glared up at the tall back, offended. Did he hear that right? “I ‘ain’t–“ He bit off his complaint. Knowing it would probably only make Boss mad. But he wouldn’t. He clenched his fangs. He wasn’t going to leave Papyrus here _alone_!

Ignoring him, Sans spun back around, taking his stance again. Pressing himself back in towards his brother. Setting it up so they were back to back. The dogs on all sides. This was _his_ fight, wasn’t it? If anyone should leave it was Boss!

“ _Sans_ ,” Boss growled in warning at his obvious disobedience. He had his crimson sword clenched tightly in his fist. “I ordered you to leave,” He rumbled, voice dangerously low.

Yeah. He’d fucking heard him the first time. “Deal with it,” He growled back, reassessing the situation to the dog’s new positions. Dogaressa must still be on Boss’ side. Lesser was starting to coil out his neck to cover more area. Greater was–

A pressure slammed into his back, as a talon dug into his coat. Boss hauled him off the ground with a single hand. “I SAID GO HOME!” He screamed in his face. Sans flinched, locking up at the sheer volume. “You’re useless here!” As if to prove his point, he wound his arm back. Then, fucking _threw_ him away.

Clear _into_ the dogs.

Dogaressa took the distraction as an opportunity to swing. Boss turned back just in time to meet the axe with his sword. A harsh metallic _clang_ ringing out across the battlefield.

Sans hit the snow and ice hard, skidding along the sleet. As if they were playing fetch and he was the ball, Greater and Lesser’s heads snapped in his direction. Lesser was further away, but Greater was much closer. They both chased after him as he slid past.

Greater bounded after him through the snow. The tremors shaking the ground increased as he grew nearer. It wasn’t long before Sans ran out of momentum. His skid slowed to a stop. He was on his back. In the snow. With two hounds fast approaching.

There wasn’t anything he could do! He _was_ useless!

He stole a glance at that red scarf billowing in battle in the distance. Then, looked at the bounding mutt hot on his heels. The vicious barking of pursuit hit a crescendo. Right before a snapping, slobbering jowl could rip off his legs, he scrambled backwards on all fours. Flailing through the snow. He fled into a shortcut.

He left Papyrus there. Alone. Against three angry dogs.

_He needed to protect Papyrus._

Whatever happened to that?

 

 

 

_“Close yer eyes, Pap~,” Sans said in a teasing taunt, dancing out of the little mittens’ reach._

_The small babybones stopped trying to grab onto the thing he was hiding behind his back and begrudgingly closed his eyes. A pout on his fangs. Tilting his head up towards the sound of his big brother’s voice._

_“Alright. Keep ‘em closed,” He grinned. Slowly, he draped the red scarf around his neck, coiling it across his shoulders. It was probably, too big for him, clearly intended for an adult, but it had been a great find. Pretty much in mint condition with only a few frayed edges around the ends. That sort of just made it look cooler in his opinion. Most importantly; it was warm._

_Pap liked to sneak into bed with him at night. It wasn’t much of a problem, but Sans had recently caught him shivering in his arms against the cold cavern floor. He liked to kick off his blanket. Hopefully, this would help._

_He fit the scarf snuggly around his little brother’s head, tossing the long overhang off over his shoulders. “Ok! ‘Ya can open ‘em!”_

_Papyrus blinked his eyes open, irises drifting down to the cloth around his neck. His little mittens came up to clasp around the fabric as he turned trying to see the end of it trailing behind him, dragging along the floor. “What’s this?” He demanded._

_Sans grinned at him. He looked pretty stinkin’ cute. Not that he would tell him that. His smile quirked to the side, beaming. “It’s a cape!” He lied through his fangs, “’Yer gonna be a hero, ain’t’cha? Then, yer gonna need a cape.”_

_He saw Papyrus stiffen, but his eyes lit up._

_That’d get him to keep it on._

_“Well?” Sans pestered, watching him explore the fabric eagerly. He crouched down next to the child, so he was closer to his height. “What do ‘ya think? It’s a bit worn, but think ‘ya can be a great hero with that?”_

_Pap nodded enthusiastically, eyes still sparkling as he announced proudly, “Of course, I will!” He started spinning around in a circle to watch the cape fly out behind him. “I’ll be the greatest hero ever! I’m going to protect everyone!”_

_Sans was grinning stupidly, leaning into an arm as he watched his little brother play. So. Stinkin’. Cute. He didn’t think Pap would like it_ that _much. This went better than expected. He could be spoiled and picky, but when he was happy; he lit up the room. No matter how awful a day he’d had; Pap always made him smile. He gushed, melting into his arm. Daydreaming of even cuter things Pap had done._

_Papyrus noticed him staring off to the side. The babybones stilled. Pouting his way, “Don’t space off!”_

_Sans blinked, coming out of his little daydream into an equally pleasant scene. Smile frozen. “Why not?”_

_“It’s not safe.” Pap reprimanded, folding his arms across his chest. Repeating lessons Sans had told him hundreds of times, “Don’t let your guard down outside.” Kid had a good head on his shoulders. But he doubted Pap even really knew what that phrase meant. Luckily, he’d never been in any real danger._

_They were fine here. They weren’t far from the nook. It was practically their front yard. So, he pretended to be shocked. Teasing, “’Yer not gonna protect me?”_

_Pap looked suddenly flabbergasted. “No, I will!” He corrected, “I’ll protect you, even if you do!”_

_“Oh, yeah?”_

_“Absolutely!” His hero leapt forward and practically tackled Sans backwards in a hug. They both fell backwards, smacking into a rather cushy bed. Little Pap was suddenly gone; replaced by a much_ older _version of him that Sans was pinned under. Two elbows on either side of his head._

_Sans blinked up at him with huge sockets, but his eyes lingered. Ah. His soul stung. This looked like what he could only imagine Pap_ should _have looked like when he had grown up._ If _he had grown up happy and safe and healthy. Without scars or damage through the years. Perfect bones and a beaming smile. Except, instead of crimson, he had these rather endearing orange eyes..._

_Pap loomed in, hovering just a breadth above the smaller, showing no clear intention of stopping._

_He probably shouldn’t have. He didn’t know what he was thinking. But, at this point; he knew this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. He_ knew _Papyrus hadn’t grown up safe or happy or unscarred. But, he was hardly going to turn this stranger down. Everything about him felt enthralling. An outcome he wanted mixed with an unfamiliarity that made him distant. Yet they were so close. He wanted this. He wanted this badly._

_Sans tugged him down the rest of the way to meet an open mouth._

_He fell into him. Sans was the one who explored his mouth. He wrapped his arms around the skeleton’s neck as he scraped their teeth together. His short, flat tongue ran along the orange one. A lazy, curious pace in no hurry to let this end. Sans held the other flush to him as their mouths slowly clacked together for several minutes, panting for brief moments of air when they could. The stranger melted into him quickly, a heavy weight pinning him down, but Sans didn’t mind. He loved the feel of his weight on him. The taste of his tongue on his. The smell of **their sheets**_ _and the sound of his breath. They all drove him mad._

_It wasn’t long before his magic responded. A glowing red bulge snuck its way into his pants, announcing his erection with little tact._

_They were pressed too closely together for the other_ not _to have felt it form. He pulled slightly away from him and –He recoiled– He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up so badly. He’d been lured in. When had the scene shifted on him? That fluffy, soft, skeleton was gone from his arms. Replaced by the real Papyrus. Piercing red gaze with that scar he hated so fucking much. He’d been in so many battles by now; the red scarf was practically in rags. He hovered over him, looming over the little skeleton pinned beneath him._

_Without warning, a finger slipped up his already wet ass._

_He jolted. F-fuck! When had his pants come off? He tried to curl in on himself. Cover himself, but he was stuck. He couldn’t move._

_The shameful arousal leftover from before twitched eagerly._

_The talon pulled out. Slick along his insides. Then, dove back in; deeper._

_“Hnn,” He keened, but bit off the sound with his fangs. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t allow himself to!_

_He clenched, but the finger didn’t care. It pressed itself back in. Speeding up as it pummeled his asshole. Piercing its way inside. He couldn’t do anything about it. His legs were spread apart by firm ropes, a gloved hand pressed between them. He closed his eyes, but that didn’t do anything. He could_ feel _it clearly. In. Out. In. Out. Slipping inside him. Wet smacks filling the room. The sound of his pleasure as Boss dove into him roughly, shoving the finger in down to the knuckle. They rocked. Swaying with each pressure._

_He was gagging on his own voice._

_He didn’t want this. This was awful._

_“I think you like it,” Boss chuckled darkly. To make his point, he bent the talon inside him, itching his insides._

_“Ahhhhnn!” He mewled, losing the hold on his voice. He trembled, but couldn’t curl away from the pleasure. It wracked its way up his spine. The finger didn’t wait for him to recover. It fucked him_ harder. _Drawing out more senseless, enamored sounds as he strained against the bonds. “Hnn,” He panted, past unclenched fangs, “Haah. Anh!”_

_He knew he couldn’t fight it off. He gave up. He gave in. He sucked the finger back in eagerly as it thrust into him. Greedily drawing on some sin deep within him. Over and over again. He rolled his hips to make the blows less harsh. The motion less forced. Meeting the temptation where it met him._

_Breathless, moaning, and hips rocking, he fought open heavily lidded, glazed eyes, blinking up at the other. The crimson eyes staring back pierced him straight down to his soul. Intently watching him beckon the finger back in. Over and over again._

_He couldn’t stop._

_“Good boy,” Boss purred, watching him fall to an even lower self-low._

_No!_

_“Nnghh!”_

_Don’t look at him! Don’t look at him with Pap’s eyes! Don’t touch him with Pap’s body! It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair! Don’t take Pap away from him. He’s all he’s got. Without him; he’d be…_

_Crack._

_Crack._

_Lustful red eyes watched him submit to his little brother’s finger thrusting in and out of him and the satisfied, squelching sounds that followed. “Now you’re being honest.”_

_NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!_

_NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!_

_NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!_

_NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!_

_NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!_

_NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!                NO HE WASN’T!_

_IT’S NOT THE SAME!_

_DAMMIT!_

_D-dammit._

_IT’S NOT THE SAME…_

“It’s not,” The familiar voice insisted.

He tensed at the mere _sound_ of the cold voice.

“The dogs say it’s him. They’re our best scouts, Papyrus. I know you don’t want to think–“

“It’s. Not.” Boss demanded.

The other sighed heavily. “This is exactly what I warned you _not_ to do.”

When had he fallen asleep?

Slowly, Sans blinked his tired sockets open. He was half curled in on himself, tucked up into a loose ball on a rather cushy carpet. His arms were lethargically tossed out in front of him. His head was by a pair of long, thin legs in black pants seated on a cushion. He was looking out under a low table. Across the way, a woman’s legs sat similarly curled up on a cushioned seat. His whole body was a bit stiff and heavy.

Despite having just woken up, he only felt like he’d been through hell.

That was why he hadn’t been sleeping. Technically, he couldn’t. So why bother? Why go back to the dreams if they didn’t help _at all_? He’d been avoiding sleeping as much as possible. But he still, sometimes, accidentally fell asleep like this. Sometimes, in weird locations. Sometimes, while standing up. Apparently, he’d failed to stay awake again and had fallen asleep while he was out running the late rounds with Boss. Now, somehow, they seemed to be at Undyne’s.

“If Alphy’s cameras–“

“Alleged!” Undyne snapped in annoyance.

“If Alphy’s _alleged_ cameras could help us find who’s actually stealing souls then don’t you think we have a duty to utilize them?” Boss cleverly inquired. “Or are you actually going to allow someone to run around dusting monsters? Were you serious about banning hunting _or not_?” He challenged.

The captain rose to the challenge. The legs stood up and the table shook as a heavy weight slammed into it! “OF COURSE I WAS!” Undyne snarled as the table rattled. She threatened, “I’ll outlaw dusting if it’s the last thing I do!”

“Then help me.” Boss didn’t even flinch at her outburst. “If we’re going to do this, then we can’t let them get away with this by getting the wrong person.”

She grunted, falling sloppily back into her seat. “And if _Sans_ shows up on this supposed footage?”

Boss hesitated.

As if he were actually entertaining that possibility.

Sans’ soul sunk. He buried his head a bit further into the carpet. Boss didn’t really believe him either, huh?

Nearly a week had passed since they’d found the first body and they’d only found a couple more. The soul carved out of the chest. Each time the dogs _insisted_ the scene smelled like him. And Sans had found red on at least one more of the bodies. Things really weren’t looking in his favor.

“It’s not him,” Boss insisted like he was trying to convince himself. A talon absently fell to the cracked skull of the little skeleton at his side. His fingers stroking under his chin.

He flinched, jolting.

Boss looked down at him. Their eyes locked for a millisecond before Sans’ fell away. Well, damn. Now he knew he was awake. He felt guilty -like he’d been eavesdropping, but it wasn’t like he knew where he was going to wake up at!

Sans scowled. Then, shook the claw irritably off. He sat up, scooching an arm’s length away from him. Tucking his legs and wrapping his arms around them, he buried his head in his knees. “It ‘ain’t me,” He croaked out, unable to even look him in the eye.

“Finally up, slacker?” Undyne barked. Past her, the kitchen clock read 3:42 in the morning.

Sans decided not to point that out to her. Instead, he sunk dejectedly into his knees, removing himself from the conversation.

The Captain glowered at him when he wouldn’t even answer, but he wasn’t really worth her time, so she turned her attention back to Papyrus. She tapped the table roughly, “If I help you with this –even if we don’t find anything –you owe me big!”

“Works for me,” Boss agreed curtly, standing up. “Let’s go.”

Sans wrestled his legs under him and stood up. Getting by without rest was starting to become very draining. His legs felt weak, like he really didn’t have the energy to keep going, but he’d felt like that this whole time. It was fine. He could still stand. Keeping his eyes cast to the floor, he wobbled an unsteady step forward to test his balance.

He’d be fine, he could walk. He wanted to go.

“Not you, Sans,” Boss snapped irritably. “You go home.”

Sans frowned harder, sinking into the rim of his furred coat. He’d been stepping on Boss’ toes left and right. Always standing in the wrong spot. Always doing the wrong thing. Or doing it too slowly. Sleeping when he should be awake. Boss was getting fed up with him. And every time, he’d be given that command.

Go home. _Go home!_

He was sick of being told that! What was he going to do at home – _sleep?_ Forget any of this was happening? He had run once, but he wasn’t a coward, okay?!

 He was sure this had something to do with him –though he could never admit it out loud. His soul was breaking and someone was stealing souls. He wouldn’t dust, but leak, and he had found the same red liquid at the crimes. If some monster out there was going through the same thing he was; he wanted to find them the most!

He couldn’t stay like this. If they knew how to get rid of these dreams–!

He had to go.

He grit his fangs together, steeling himself. The little skeleton went after them, catching them at the door as the two made their way out. He’d hesitated so long, they almost got away. “W-wait!” He blurted out at their backs, furling his hands nervously into the hem of his coat. “I can help! I w-want ‘ta help!” They turned around –Ah. He’d closed his eyes. Don’t be a coward. Stop avoiding him. Get it together, dammit. “So,” He opened his eyes. Looking up at them. Mustering all his courage, he locked eyes with that black-clad, intimidating skeleton, “So, I’m comin’, too.”

A blow smashed into the side of his head.

He stumbled to the side –and would have fallen- but a talon dug into his coat, catching him. Boss roughly yanked him back onto his feet. Mind spinning, Sans barely processed what just happened before a claw latched around his neck. Choking off his air–

“If I tell you to do something; You. Do. It.” Boss growled low in his ear.

His small hands scraped frantically against the glove clasped around his neck. It only tightened in response. Creaking the vertebrae along his neck. He wouldn’t really suffocate. He knew that. But the panic was real. The pain. The discomfort. The fact his huge sockets were forced to look into Boss’ at this distance.

He tried to look anywhere but at his face.

The talon held the little skeleton there, chest heaving, until he went limp in the grip. Until he stopped trying to fight it. Until he submitted.

He fell very still.

“If I tell you to go home; what do you say?”

“Y-ye-esss, Boss,” He choked out past trembling fangs. He was actually scared.

Boss shoved him away. He stumbled back, falling to his ass on the cushy carpet. Finally free to breathe. He gasped in the air urgently.

“I’ll be back in the morning,” Boss informed distastefully, turning away. Undyne sneered at the disobedient Runt before turning her back on him, too. The taller monsters exited, slamming the door behind them. They left him alone in the room, panting on the floor.

He’d lost his nerve again. If he could just stop having nightmares and actually look Boss in the eye. Then, if he were calmer, maybe they could argue about it, or talk, or even laugh? He used to do that with Boss. He knew he did! …Didn’t he?

He grit his teeth. Then, sunk down to the carpet. Pressing his trembling hands into his sockets. “Dammit!”

He was quickly forgetting any times he ever did. He couldn’t remember any. But they’d been there. He knew they had. Or else how did his little brother go straight to _that_?

Was his little brother even in there anymore?

The thought made him sick.

Actually, physically, sick as he thought of the dream. Repulsed, he rolled over onto his stomach, lurching over the carpet like he might vomit. The thought they might’ve– The thought _he_ might’ve–

Rather did he want him to be in there?

He didn’t have anything he could expel. He was so exhausted, he certainly didn’t have magic to _spare._ He collapsed back to the carpet. Letting the self-loathing eat away at him. Sans stared emptily at nothing for a long time. Before he finally felt well enough to leave.

He didn’t actually feel _that_ great, so he decided to just walk home. There was no point to risk falling into the void in his current state. He left through the front door, leaving the door unlocked since he was missing a key to close it with. But he doubted anyone had the gall to break into the Captain’s house.

Even the building looked like an angry fish face.

Lethargically, he made his way through Waterfall. Even though it was late, red flowers lit the path with their crimson light. Waterfall looked the same no matter what time of day it was. Dark, damp, dreary. It was the perfect place to hide things; that’s why children liked to camp out here. Lots of hideaways and low-hanging areas only they could fit behind. It was the safest place for them to be. If there were any left. Ironically, it was also the perfect place for other, more dangerous monsters to lurk. With so much easy experience bunched together in one spot; it was also a perfect hunting ground.

Sans _should_ have been paying attention, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t in the mood. He kept his head hung, eyes trained on the slow, swaying shuffle of his own feet as he treaded along the familiar path.

A faint _tap tap tap_ was all the warning he had.

Something smashed into his back, shoving him to the side. Off guard, he was knocked over the edge of the main path. Whatever hit him latched onto his coat, it didn’t have the weight to anchor him. They went over the side. Sans threw his own weight back surfing down the short, muddy incline, trying to keep his balance as a mass pressed into his back. The second they hit the bottom Sans spun around, stumbling over his own feet, but he didn’t see much before the shorter attacker closed in. A foot jutted under his legs as they shoved him with their full weight behind it yet again. They both tripped into the tall, muddy grass with a wet smack.

Sans attempted to get up, but a weight pinned him into the muck beneath the tall blades of grass.

There was a child sitting on his chest.

“Sans the Skeleton,” They began ever so quietly, but didn’t finish. They seemed out of breath. Shoulders heaving as they panted out short gasps. How long had they been running for? “Good Evening,” Frisk greeted, voice emotionless, but breath short.

“WH-TH–!” He began, crimson eyes flying up and down the crazy brat. How many days had it been since he’d last seen them?! He had actually entertained the thought one of the dust piles might have been them. Clearly, he shouldn’t have worried. They were as crazy as ever.

“Shh!” They leaned in close to his face, holding a single, burnt finger over their lips to prolong the silence.

His soul hitched for the slightest second; thinking they were going to take this opportunity to dust him, but the thought passed as quickly as it had come. The kid hadn’t once tried that yet. Letting the tenseness leave his bones, he flopped back into the mud. Allowing them to sit on top of him with nothing but a dirty scowl cast their way.

Satisfied he didn’t look like he’d be yelling anytime soon; they lowered their finger. Their voice was calm, but quiet. Too quiet for the echo flowers to pick up. “I see Papyrus isn’t with you this evening,” They noted.

Sans’ face soured. He was still trying to figure out if _Papyrus_ existed anymore. He timidly dropped his eyes to the side, dejectedly muttering, “No. He ‘ain’t.”

“That is unfortunate,” They stated, allowing the heaviness to hang in the air –for less than a second. Completely missing the sullen mood. As if the whole concept of tact flew entirely over their dense head. They grabbed a fistful of his jacket and yanked it up, scrubbing their face with his coat as if they were cleaning it off.

“!!!” He flinched. Then, bared his fangs at them, about to protest. He wasn’t a fucking towel!

He was interrupted by a flower. It curled out from under the cloak, by the child’s neck, seemingly avoiding his filthy coat. “I really don’t like this idea,” It protested, staring almost disgustedly over at Sans’ jacket.

“You don’t like any of my ideas,” Frisk noted stoically, silencing them in one fell swoop. The flower pouted. The kid flopped down onto his belly, rubbing their face like a wet dog.

Sans bristled. “What’re you –?!”

They urgently held up a single finger again. Calling for silence.

“Don’t teleport. Stay low,” They whispered, voice empty and flat. It sounded like more of their senseless ramblings. Yet there was something about the serious tone that made him want to play along. Face now clean, they let go of his jacket, adding in a hush, “The pack is hunting you tonight, Sans the Skeleton. Don’t let them find you unless Papyrus is around.”

After dropping that bomb, before Sans could even process anything;

The rapid sound of approaching footsteps scrapped across the wet stone. It quickly charged by, like it might speed past them. But, then, it suddenly skidded to a stop. Sans tensed; but he couldn’t see anything past the thick web of tall grass. His soul went stone cold when he heard sniffing in the air.

Whoever it was, stepped off the path.

The tap of stone replaced by the squish of mud. The rustling of grass. Sans wasn’t breathing anymore. He was sure they were so close. They were going to find them any–

Frisk stood up. Feet planted to either side of him. Their head popped out of the grass –sort of. They were only tall enough for their scalp to barely graze past the top of the thick brush, but no sooner had their head exited the grass that a knife jutted in, stopping just inches away from the child’s face.

They didn’t even flinch. The decapitated blades of grass fluttered down.

“What??? It’s just some brat!!!” It was Doggo, he retracted the knife.

“Good evening,” Frisk greeted with their emotionless voice.

They weren’t greeted back. There was a pause as the two seemed to stare each other down. No doubt the guard found it a tad suspicious a child was out this late. Yet Frisk obliviously stood by, allowing the faint sound of a nose to explore their scent.

 “Heeyyy,” Doggo said slowly, “Don’t I know you???”  Sans easily pictured the image of him squinting like he were blind.

“Do you?” Frisk asked.

“Yeah,” the hound said carefully as if he were coming to the realization himself. The grass started rustling to the sides, the voice coming from a different angle. Doggo was circling them like a vulture. However, his arc was wide enough around the child to miss stepping on Sans entirely. “Yeah, you’re that brat from the bar!!!”

Frisk didn’t say anything, but stood perfectly still. They didn’t even turn their head to watch the prowling dog. Feet still firmly planted to either side of the skeleton below them. Sans didn’t know if he should move or crawl away or tuck his feet in or _something_! But if Doggo was looking at the kid, they’d definitely see him if he moved. He was right under their feet, just beneath the thick grass.

“You were with Sans, weren’t you???” He recalled.

“Yes, I was,” Frisk replied, barren of all inflection.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you???” Doggo asked, voice turning tauntingly sweet for his rough, natural baritone.

“No,” the emotionless voice came. It was so indistinct from all their other emotionless lines; you couldn’t even tell it was a lie.

Yet the hound pressed on. “You sure about that???”

“Yes.” Doggo couldn’t see it from his angle, but Sans could see the child quietly slip a knife out of their cloak, flipping it into their palm. They didn’t even change their stance, nor give any indication they were brandishing a weapon at all. Surely, Doggo could only see the top of their head. He had no clue.

The sound of the pacing circle ceased. The hound’s voice dropped his pleasant edge. “You smell an awful lot like him, kid. You wouldn’t be lying to me would you???”

Quick as sound, the kid slashed out to their right –presumably at Doggo. A faint cloud of dust erupted overhead. They’d hit. Then, they hopped over Sans and sprinted away the same direction they’d slashed, past the guard, as far and as fast as they could go.

“Hey!!!” The dog snarled ferociously. He took off after the child, pursuing his only lead.

Pursuing a distraction.

Sans laid, half terrified, on his back until the footsteps disappeared into the distance. He was still confused as to what was going on. The dogs were hunting him? Well, he knew one thing for certain; _walking_ home had been a very bad idea! He rolled onto his feet, sprinting the opposite way. Straight into a shortcut.

The second he did; he was instantly reminded why he had decided _not_ to do that in the first place. Holding onto his soul was a chore in and of itself. He didn’t have the momentum he usually did when passing through. He was afraid his magic might fizzle out halfway. When the ride took longer than usual, he feared it might have. If he missed the exit; he’d be stuck in this never ending darkness forever!

He desperately searched for the spark of magic he needed to save himself. Panic and pain lacing through him simultaneously, he found the kick he needed. He shoved his soul forward with gravity again, spitting himself out of the exit.

He ran into his living room. His feet only thudding out three steps or so, which was a good thing because he didn’t really feel up to the task of sprinting around. Now in the safety of his own home, he hunched over, hands on knees. Not so much panting as he was trying to let his pounding soul still.

What had that been about? Dogs were hunting him? He was sure Papyrus had ordered no action be taken against him. So, the pack was double-crossing the Guard?

_Creak._

Paranoia on high; an annoying creak instantly caught his attention. Somehow, he _knew_ that sound. He turned towards the front door, half glancing at it over his shoulder. Sockets wide. The door was slightly ajar, banging faintly in the winter winds.

Not how he’d left it.

“Where have you been, Runt…?”

Panic seized his soul. He spun the other way to see Dogaressa leaning on one of her axes, the other strapped to her back, as still as the furniture, standing by the sofa in his living room. Just out of sight in the shadows of the edges of the room. She wasn’t seated like a guest.

“Another late night…?” She pressed sarcastically at his jumpy reaction.

This was bad! They were in his house, too? He stumbled a footstep back.

“What? No answer?” She lifted the heavy blade off the floor, taking two menacing steps forward. They weren’t very far apart. Those large steps closed the distance between them significantly. Sans glanced nervously over his shoulder at the limited room he had left to flee. “…Guilty conscience perhaps?”

He spun and _booked it_. He knew that low drop in volume. She’d kill him. He’d rather risk the void again!

“No, you don’t!” She practically tackled him through the shortcut. One second he was almost out free, the next the hound smashed into his spine.

He’d been aiming for Alphy’s, or as close as he could get on short notice, but Dogaressa threw him off. Flipped him around. They tumbled over each other. He tried to kick her off, but she dug her claws in. Unlike last time; he really _did_ lose his hold on his soul this time. He desperately tried to recover a direction, before they lost sight of the distant shimmering glance of exits. One instant, they were drifting out in the direction of nothingness. Then, Sans yanked his soul jarringly the other way. She slipped to his waist, but tore his shirt the whole way down. They ripped through the first available exit into the snow. Dogaressa smashed down first. Sans pinged off of her skidding a little further away. Snow cold on his bones.

The path in Snowdin forest. The exact opposite direction he’d been trying to go. Behind him, Dogaressa had rolled over. She shook her head, trying to reorient herself from the uneasy shortcut. They were disorienting in the best of cases, when you weren’t flipping wildly and being kicked in the head.

Sans looked frantically around trying to figure out what he should do. He could try for a shortcut again, but that was twice in a row now they’d failed. Another attempt was at worst suicide and at best; stupid. He hadn’t been aiming here at all. He could pop out over lava or get buried alive inside a cavern wall next.

A nearby howl split the air. His attention urgently snapped back around to his pursuer.

“I’m not going to wait around while you kill the townsfolk…,” She snarled, shaking her head dizzily. As if she were trying to will away the ailment.

“It ‘a-ain’t me!”

“Lying might work with the others; but not on me.” She wrestled her way back onto her feet, hauling her other axe off her back. Her first was missing. Probably lost to the void forever. She held this one firmly; but carefully. “I smelled you on every single one of those dead monsters.” It was her husband’s axe. “I know it was you… No matter where you go; I’ll make sure only misery awaits you now!”

She charged in. Rushing him before she had fully recovered to keep him off his game. Swinging her axe wildly across. He stumbled backwards, dodging not one, but two horizontal swipes as she quickly flowed one strike into the next. Seeing he was off his footing, she easily hauled the massive weapon over her shoulder. The clumsy overhead chop crashed into the snow.

Sans barely side-stepped it.

Could he even take Dogaressa? He’d barely dodged her at the bar –and that was _with_ lowered visibility, interruptions, and her slowly suffocating on the fires’ fumes the entire time.

But she was already an axe down from then. She yanked the sole weapon out of the ground, buying him extra time between the strikes. Then, swung it viciously back his way.

He hopped away. The blade skimmed just in front of his chest.

Ah –but he couldn’t really shortcut around her attacks this time either! He couldn’t dodge forever. Even if he did teleport away, he’d have the whole pack on his trail. They’d catch him eventually, wouldn’t they? He had to fight. Best to take their leader out _now_. While they were split up.

He didn’t know how, but he’d have to manage it. He summoned his large bone club into his hand as she regained her footing. Cautiously setting his stance a distance away, so he’d have time and room to dodge.

Dogaressa charged in, axe trailing.

Sans crouched, preparing to leap out of the way of another sideway swipe.

When she’d closed the distance between them, she dug her feet in. The axe whipped forward with the momentum. Yet when the weapon flew too far to the side; she let it fly. Spinning, so the axe came in three times consecutively from the same direction.

That wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting. He had to backpedal three times the distance he’d been planning in a fraction of the time. He was so off-balance; he fell on his ass into the snow.

Dammit, he was too tense. He needed to be looser. If he was dodging, he couldn’t plan ahead. He had to react. Yet he flailed backwards through the snow, knowing he was at nothing but a disadvantage now.

Dogaressa gracefully and efficiently stopped her spin by diverting her axe into an overhead chop. Letting the speed carry into a forceful blow.

It smashed the ground just between his spread legs. Too close.

With a firm grip, she hauled it out of the snow.

Sans threw his club over the top of the handle, horizontally so they crossed. A hand on either side of the bone, pressing down. He had no delusions he could overpower her or hold her axe in the ground. In fact, he was counting on her being strong enough to lift it anyway.

She was. As if to prove he couldn’t incapacitate her axe with such a cheap trick, the guard yanked it out twice as forcefully.

Sans held onto his bone. When the axe lifted to the point his arms could stretch no further, it lifted him clear off the ground. The incline peaked and, like a zip-line, he slid down the handle.

He kicked her in the chest as hard as he could.

It was enough to throw her off balance –at least temporarily. She lost one paw’s grip on the axe. It fell to the ground, but, with her other paw, she used that anchor to keep her balance. She was still standing, but that was okay.

Most importantly, _Sans_ was on his feet again. He cracked her in the side with his club, throwing her even more off balance. Then, fired several bones point blank into her torso, forcing her further back and away.

They were a safe distance apart once again.

Dogaressa ripped the bones out of her stomach, letting her dust flutter down. “Hah,” She laughed scornfully, “I knew you were more adept than you let on…” She readied her weapon, regarding her opponent. “One hit point, but seven levels in, huh? You’re no stranger to this…”

He wasn’t. But she was getting the wrong idea.

He frowned at her. He was sure anything he said, she’d use against him. She was so set on criminalizing him, there wasn’t really any reasoning left here.

“You’ve gotten away with it for so long…” She flipped her hold on the weapon so the handle was at the top. The blade resting at the base. A strange choice. “It’s time I eliminated YOU!”

In answer, he tightened his hold on his own club, summoning several more bones to float behind him. Socket roaring to life with a fiery blaze.

Dogaressa led the charge.

Loose on his feet, Sans skipped out of range of the first few swings. They came in frequently and hard. Dogaressa traded off control over her weapon for a frightening increase in speed. Not something he’d expect out a weapon this heavy. The strikes were quick, yet unprecise. She’d roll one attack straight into the next, which meant she wasn’t aiming so much as just swinging in his direction.

That cost, while significant, hardly meant a thing when he was hard-pressed, bombarded on all sides. He quickly found out the reason for the unique stance, too. She wasn’t just swinging –the whole attack was one extended swing. She’d swing. Miss. Flip the handle up over her shoulder. Angle it back in. Miss. Twirl it around her waist. Miss. Flip it across her arm, down over her torso. In again. She wasn’t so much spinning herself as she’d spin the weapon around her in a deadly dance that meant each time that she missed; the weapon’s momentum would continue. The blade only got _faster_.

And it wasn’t like fighting a normal axe. Usually, he’d expect slowness and limited movement. Strictly horizontal or vertical chops. This came diagonally, too. Sometimes the blade was where he’d logically expect it to be –at the top, but sometimes it was at the other end and he’d realize he’d lost sight of it and was watching nothing more than the handle.

The plus side was that Dogaressa had to keep herself in the center as an anchor, cutting the axe’s original reach in half. The downside was that she had already closed that distance.

Sans leaned and bobbed, ducking out narrow miss after nearer miss. He couldn’t let her keep that momentum. It’d be the end of him. He wasn’t that fast.

So, he threw his bones into the mix. Intercepting the handle where he could. Deflecting the blade where he was able. Throwing her off.

The sharp clangs where they met each other rang out across the forest.

Yet Sans wasn’t going to stay on the defensive. If all he did was dodge, she’d wear him out in no time.

He ducked under a blade he’d deflected overhead. Gripping onto his club, he swiped the club out in a low, wide arc. Right around knee level. She had to jump to clear the attack. The feint was just easy enough to lure her in. Why take damage when you didn’t have to? She jumped. The break in combat was all the time he needed.

He dropped the hold on his floating, defensive bones. They clattered to the ground. Instead, he grabbed her soul. Hurling her away from him at top speed.

She launched away.

He dropped his club into the snow to summon more bones with his free hand. Sending them flying after her into the forest.

The guard slammed her axe into a nearby tree as she sped past, hooking it into the bark. She twirled around the trunk as the bones flew straight past her.

He tried to spin them around, angling them back towards her. Several of the widened swarm imbedded themselves into the bark of other trees in the crowded forest.

Dogaressa hit the ground hard, rolling, but she didn’t slow. She was back up on her feet in no time, charging straight back at him! Axe dragging behind, plowing bull-headedly through the snow.

He held the swarm of bones as long as he could. Steering them to the best of his ability in close quarters. Slowly backing himself up as she grew nearer. Yet he held his stance. The swarm was almost on her back.

When they got too close, she stopped advancing. Taking just enough time to spin around, she batted several of them that _would_ have hit her clear out of the air with the axe. They exploded into little puffs of dust. The rest lodged themselves into the ground past her. She took off running again out of the smoke.

Fuck.

He couldn’t let her get close to him again.

He abandoned the attack. Scooped his club out of the snow and took off running himself. Anything to keep the distance between them. Dogaressa was a close combat fighter, but Sans could do short or medium range. Too far apart and he’d have trouble controlling the magic, but he had an impressive range. Almost anything in sight was fair game. As long as she was at a distance, he had an advantage.

But she was closing in. Surely, a solely close-range fighter was skilled at closing the distance they needed to battle. Or at least used to doing it!

Not like his fat ass.

So, sprinting, he spun around, grabbed her soul with one hand, and flung her to the side.

Her feet were swept out from under her as she flew out to the left. In the midst of her trajectory, he dropped her soul to fling a barrage of bones after her. She blocked most of them with her axe. Pursuing him immediately after the threat failed. She’d lost some ground on him, but she was faster than he was on his short legs.

So, he turned around again. Threw her out to the side.

This time she dug her heavy blade into the ground, anchoring herself in place. She barely budged. He didn’t get far.

That trick was no good, huh?

He spun around, looking forward in his tiring sprint just in time to see a white tube lying in his path. It blended straight into the snow, yet it was tall enough to trip him. Luckily, he saw it first. He leapt over it.

It moved.

He could make out fur now that he was much closer. It slid across the ground sideways after his feet. Plowing through the snow. Aiming to trip him.

He veered his path enough to comfortably shoot three bones into it. Impaling it back into the snow. Some faint yip could be heard from the other end. That wasn’t a tube; it was Lesser’s neck.

Dammit, Lesser was here? How? He grit his fangs. He guessed that howl he heard Dogaressa make when they landed wasn’t just to intimidate him. Then, how long until the other dogs got here?

A flash of silver cut his thoughts. He yanked his own soul jarringly back just in time to dodge it. Like whiplash he snapped the other way. The axe smashed into the ground in a flurry of snowflakes.

He couldn’t let himself get distracted! He had two opponents to keep an eye on now! And _now_ he was way too close to Dogaressa again. He couldn’t be this close to her. Especially not if he was outnumbered!

While she yanked it free from the ground, he scrambled back the other way over Lesser’s neck. When he touched the fur; it twitched. Curling in on itself like he’d just sprung a trap. The neck retracted quickly. The coils bunched in.

Again, he flung his own soul away with gravity. Using the boost to clear the trap before he got wrapped up in it. He skidded across the ice, only holding himself up with his soul, until he got his legs secured beneath him. He took off sprinting again, glancing over his shoulder at the pair of enemies behind him.

Dogaressa vaulted over Lesser’s neck hot in pursuit. A furious glare in her dark eyes.

Sans glanced back to the thudding landscape in front of him, but he only saw trees and white snow. His vision was a bit blurry, too. Tunnel vision creeping in from the weariness in his bones. Yet, in the corner of his eye, he caught a little shimmy as Lesser buried his neck back into the snow. Making it almost indistinguishable from the rest of the surroundings. He was willing to bet there were similar traps all over, snaking just beneath the blanket of white.

He’d never find them. Not if he _looked._ He was sure they were all over this field somewhere. So, he started attacking the ground. Bursting bones up from the earth. But not randomly. He didn’t have the energy to just randomly attack things. He aimed them mostly behind him, with only one or two thrown haphazardly in front of him to test his path. A wake of red spikes shot up beneath his feet, tripping up Dogaressa’s chase.

She weaved through them. Yet the pointed bones deterred her from a direct pursuit.

Sans sprinted on, leaving a crimson bone-field behind as if he were painting the field. Dogaressa came in tow behind him, but a bit off to the side so she’d have less footwork to worry about. Sans shot a few projectiles at her over his shoulder. Yet, like a shield, she deflected them with her axe.

His foot snagged.

Shit. He went straight down into the snow, tripping over the buried neck. Sans curled in on his fall, landing on his back. The snow shook around him as the trap sprung. An avalanche of snow began to constrict in on him.

Dogaressa was on him in a second. She leapt over the neck, axe already poised to slice.

It came down.

In one swift flick, Sans slashed his club out, meeting the blade. Banging it against the handle. Deflecting her aim. With his free, trailing hand, he gripped her soul and flung her straight over him. The force of the motion rolled him over. She never had the opportunity of landing. The hound and the axe shot overhead, tumbling through the snow into the distance. One threat down, but the neck snapped in.

It curled around him. Already on his side, Sans could only tuck himself into a tight ball. Caught, he was tugged up from the ground, upside down. He struggled, but the neck only squeezed him tighter. He bit into his binds, sharp fangs piercing through the flesh. The muscles tensed. He wasn’t very strong, but he tried his damnedest to stand, extending himself out from the little ball he had curled himself into. Kicking his feet against the neck. Stretching the coils apart as far as he could.

He freed up a hand enough to summon several bones. He shot them one after the other into the constricting neck. Piercing it all the way through to the other side. Impaling the coils.

It wasn’t wise to move in a red attack.

Lesser sensibly stopped trying to crush him, falling very still. Sans suddenly slipped through his hold. Falling to the cold floor below.

He didn’t manage to catch his soul with gravity in time. The fall was too short. He smacked against the ice. The little skeleton rolled over to find Dogaressa on her feet again. An axe barreling in his way. He yanked his soul blindly out of the way again. The weapon crashed into the snow where he was.

He missed the chop, but the sloppy dodge cracked his skull against a nearby tree. Figures the first real damage he takes is self-inflicted. Yet he didn’t stop. A bit disoriented, he leaned heavily into the trunk, using the bark against his back to climb his way back onto his feet.

The battlefield was spinning. Yet he could see a dark-clad form charging in at him, silver glint raised. Hand outstretched, he launched Dogaressa away from him again.

She slammed her axe into the ground. Anchoring herself against the gravity, but she plowed a fair distance away down the battlefield. Lining her up next to the red swath of bones he’d left behind.

Now was a good a chance as any.

He stuck his club between his teeth, holding the weapon with his mouth. Then, pinged the bones. All the red bones on the field shifted to white. He threw his hands out to the side.

The ground rumbled.

  _All_ the bones shot to the side. He crossed his hands, conducting the symphony of attacks. They tore through the land, tearing up the ground, combing through the snow, tangling up Lesser’s neck, and jabbing Dogaressa’s legs as she tried futilely to dance around them as the earth itself tried to throw her off her footing. Then, he rose the bones out of the ground, dragging a knotted Lesser out of his hiding spot. Dogaressa stumbled as the ground trembled beneath her. He flicked his wrist. The army of bones turned on her.

She snarled at him.

He shot them at her.

She took off running probably in the smartest direction she could; right at _him_. If he wanted to hit her, he’d have to aim them at himself, too.

He did. Firing them off in tiers so he wouldn’t run out of ammo. The barrage pelted down around her. Slamming and smashing into the snow. Surely, some of them hit, but she just _kept going._ On a bull-headed, decisive, warpath straight at him. She wasn’t like him. She had hit points to spare. She could risk it all. It got to the point where he couldn’t hold his ground without either risking hitting himself or allowing her to get too close.

He was forced to sprint away. The battle back in motion. She charged after him. Yet he wasn’t as fast as before. Too weary. Too tired. She was too quick on her feet for him to outrun. He could hear her close behind. Focused, he barely looked in front of himself anymore, keeping his eyes over his shoulder to keep the continuous barrage firing off at her. In the hopes that he might still keep her at a distance. But the vicious attacks certainly didn’t turn her away. She knew she had weakened prey in her sights. She raced after him, hot on his heels.

And he was distracted.

A hulking form rammed into his side at full speed, knocking him off his path. He was taken clear off his feet. They rolled. He ended up pinned under the bulk with nothing but his feet pressed up against the hairy neck to hold Greater’s snapping jaw at bay. A loud racket of barks ringing in his head. He pressed his skull back into the snow as far away as he could, kicking against the hound’s throat. But he was hardly strong enough to kick him off. Not even with his hands pressing against the face as well. The row of teeth inched closer, mandible snapping dangerously close to Sans’ face with every ear-splitting bark.

He rammed his club between the snapping maw, longwise. Using it as a plug. Slobber dribbled down his arm. Greater clamped his mouth down –or tried to. The powerful jaw crunched the bone, bending it with a splitting crack. For a brief second, Sans feared he might manage to take off his arm anyway, which was shoved into the dog’s mouth past his elbow. But the bone held, sparing him from the possible damage.

Too close.

Chest heaving, panic high, he didn’t wait for that straining club to snap. He threw Greater off of him with gravity. Not bothering to see where the mammoth landed. Free now, he rolled over in the snow, glancing frantically around for the first opponent he’d lost sight of. Dogaressa was possibly the worst one to lose.

He spun to see her frighteningly close.

Perhaps only five steps behind.

Desperate. He dropped her straight down with gravity. Slowing her. He scrambled to get away. Legs working out the motions of running, before he was even fully off the slick ground. He got his feet under him and started to take off.

Stuck where she was, the pack leader fought the sudden weight to keep her stance. Dogaressa flung her axe out wide, refusing to let him get away. Reaching with its range. It flew out in a huge arc.

The axe slammed into his side.

He missed the brunt of the blade –he hadn’t gotten far enough- but the lower half of the sharp edge hooked into his spine. Cracking through the bone. He was swept off his feet, flung along for the rest of the weapon’s arc. Then, thrown back the other way.

He rolled limp through the snow several feet away.

Pain, vividly hot, split up from his spine. “Gnh!” He curled in on himself, cradling his stomach. The pain throbbed. Ground like a barb against his bones. Shakily, he drew a hand away from the injury. Nothing but a stain of red across his palm. He curled in tighter. He _could_ take a hit now, couldn’t he? At least he’d _thought_ so. Yet this pain was incapacitatingly harsh.

Maybe, he just wasn’t used to feeling real pain? He’d never taken a point of damage before. Was it always this bad? His whole body was trembling.

He tried to wrestle himself onto his knees, but he couldn’t seem to lift himself off the ground. Top-heavy, his face remained planted in the snow while his legs tried to stand. His limbs weren’t obeying correctly, like the strength had been sapped out of them.

Footsteps approached the broken heap in the snow. Dogaressa was panting, clearly exhausted. She’d landed a lucky hit. She narrowed her eyes down at him. “Are even your stats a lie…?”

Certainly didn’t _feel_ like a lie.

Yet the sound of her voice so close made him jolt. He fell back onto his side, turning to look up at the guard looming over him. One hand clutched around the bloom of red across his stomach.

He couldn’t stay down. He had to fight.

“Why am I not surprised?” She snarled sarcastically down at him. “You’ve always been a liar.” Seeing the fight still left in his eyes, she readied her blade once again.

His sockets went huge. He couldn’t take a hit like that again! She’d break him.

She raised the blade like an executioner; ready for a downward chop.

Panicked, he let a vicious bite sink into his remaining magic –not something he had a lot of. Not something he had enough for. A chilling pain prickled down to his marrow. His vision swam. The blaster came to his side. A nasty blow already glowing behind its fangs. It must have _looked_ terrifying –because the hardened guard abandoned her strike midway. Tried to jump out of the way.

It fired.

A fatal beam split the air in a brief, loud, shrieking boom. Incinerating anything in its path. Yet its reign of terror was short-lived. It left just as quickly as it had come. Leaving a sickening crackling noise in its wake. As if it had burned the air itself. Singeing away all the oxygen.

Sans flat out just did not have the magic to keep it here. He’d been running on fumes for days. He’d blown all his energy on shortcuts or staying awake or _functioning_ through a normal day _._ Hell, this whole battle had been excess he just _didn’t_ even have in him. It was a damn miracle he’d lasted this long. Now, he just _hurt. Everywhere._

He writhed in the snow.

But he wasn’t the only one. Something metal clattered to the ground. Alarmed barks pierced the air as the dogs dashed to their leader’s side. Dogaressa, too, was on the ground. One paw clamped over her shoulder, right over her _missing_ arm. The stench of burnt fur crisp in the air as the ashes of what was once her arm fluttered down. He’d blown her half to hell.

Her husband’s memento had also been incinerated. Nothing but a useless fraction of the axe’s blade left, imbedded into the ground nearby.

Greater and Lesser huddled around their fallen companion. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but there was some whimpering thrown into the mix. He was sure the anxious barks were out of concern.

“I’m _fine!_ ” Dogaressa’s voice cried over them. Clearly speaking through painfully clenched fangs. “Forget me…,” She snarled past the agony. Voice black with hate. “Get _him_! Make him pay… I want him to _suffer_!”

The yips and barks died off, replaced by a rising growl. The dogs turned away from their fallen companion; towards _him_. Beady, hungry eyes latched onto their prey.

His eyes met theirs, huge as saucers past the bulk of his coat. He felt like couldn’t move, but he definitely couldn’t stay here! He fought to get his legs under him again, scuttling his feet uselessly against the ice. Yet, again, he couldn’t seem to lift himself out of the snow. Perhaps a spine –something crucial for balance- was a very bad thing to injure.

The dogs prowled closer. Eyeing their target warily. Summing him up.

He knew he couldn’t let them catch him. He struggled to stand up, but he didn’t even get to his knees before he flopped back into the snow again. All his strength was gone. Slipping and sliding, he tried to force himself up. Stand. Crawl. Move. _Something_.

No luck.

One of them bit out a nasty bark. Maybe that was the ok. They’d probably noticed by now it was safe to approach. He didn’t exactly _look_ like someone with any tricks left up his sleeves.

Desperate; he grabbed his soul and yanked himself forward that way. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, but they could still be moved. They functioned. It was _fine_. He pulled –with magic he didn’t even have. It fizzled out quickly. Yet the effort snapped him forward like a slingshot.

He launched forward into the trees. Skidded along the top of the ice for a short distance. Then, fell back into the snow. Flaring the injury all over again. “AUGH! Hh!” Fuck, that hurt. Oh god, that hurt.

The dogs chased, bounding into the tree line after him. Snapping branches and tousling the snow.

_Go,_ dammit. _Move,_ dammit.

He grabbed a spark again –a lifeline- as the dogs hunted him through the forest. Barking. Yipping. They weren’t far behind.

He did it again. Lurching himself forward. He didn’t get far.

The growls followed. They could have easily caught him had they been running –had they been _trying._ Yet they didn’t approach. Staying just close enough to be threatening and dangerous. Herding him along. Bites on his heels. Enjoying the hunt. They knew Sans couldn’t get away from them.

Were they just _playing_ with him, dammit?

What else could he do? He did it again. Flinging himself forward. Damaging the spine further as he tumbled through the snow. He’d gotten even less distance this time. His magic was dying. He couldn’t even light his eyes.

Everything fell dark. The snow beneath him; cold.

Maybe he’d stopped moving. Easy prey. Lesser snaked in on a long neck, bobbing tauntingly nearby. When his prey didn’t react, he lashed out. A row of sharp teeth latching onto his arm. The snarling maw vibrating against him as the mutt growled into the bone.

Sans jolted back to life. Pain splitting through him. Punching and jamming Lesser in the snout until he’d shaken himself free. He flung the dog off. The motion dropping him back into the snow, too. He couldn’t stop! There were definitely worse things in store if he stopped. So, he dragged himself backwards. Pathetically clawing himself away by his wobbling arms. Lesser dove back in. This time biting his trailing leg. Yanking him back the way he’d come. Losing the precious ground he’d already gained. He thrashed. Kicking the mutt in the head until he let go; forcibly. The snake didn’t release him until he rammed his foot hard enough into his skull to shove him off his leg. His pants went with him, snagged on sharp teeth.

He couldn’t stay here. He had to move! If he stopped; they’d eat him alive!

Fuck, fuck, fuck. They were hovering right behind him. _Go,_ dammit. _Move,_ dammit. Useless fucking body. Panic laced through his marrow like poison. Fear snapped at his heels.

With terror, he found enough of a spark to try and move.

With that newfound energy, Sans flailed half-naked in the freezing snow, trying to get away any way he could. He crawled, clambering away on all fours. As soon as he’d turned around, the largest beast pounced. It was Greater’s turn. With a sickening crack, the small skeleton collapsed into the snow under the weight. He was pinned, head down and butt up. A rippling jowl held him down by the back of his neck. Fangs dug painfully into his vertebrae. A low growl rumbling next to his head, promising pain.

There wasn’t anything he could do! He fell very still. He gave up. He gave in. Greater Dog had won, but he wasn’t done. That was hardly satisfying. He had to get Sans to fully submit.

Had to make him suffer.

The terrified skeleton, a third the beast’s size, spent several agonizing moments with his face pressed into the cold snow while nothing happened. Yet the sinking feeling in his gut told him he should have kept running.

A short, thick, wide girth pressed at the entrance on his exposed pelvis. His soul practically leapt out of his throat. His hollow sockets flew open. Sans scrambled to get away, his hands and legs sliding and skidding all across the ice, but he was stuck. The sheer mass of the animal holding him down was too much. The beast’s erect member forced its way into his pelvic inlet.

“AH-Ack!” Sans choked out, as his hip bones creaked against the pressure. He was too small for this! Their sizes were too different! He hadn’t even formed an opening yet and he could feel the throbbing down there, filling up his _entire_ pelvic cavity.

“Wai-!” He started to scream. Spinning around as far as he could, he pushed uselessly against one of the massive paws restraining him. He had no strength.

But Greater Dog didn’t seem to mind the snug fit. He rutted into him. Short, quick ministrations shoving into him with such force Sans’ spine bent backwards with the blows, threatening to snap. Pain shot away from his injury in vivid waves. He collapsed into the snow, helpless against the thrusts.

“Guh!-Uh!-Nn!” Sans tried to swallow down the rising strained tears, but they leaked out of his hollow sockets, freezing in the red-stained snow. He bit off his voice between his shaking fangs. Cringing his eyes shut to try and make it go away. His whole body rocked with every forced entry. Every intrusion his pelvis creaked like it might snap.

The mandible around his vertebrae released his spine, fresh slobber trickling down the back of his neck. The dog shoved his member in again, deeper. Sans’ pelvis strained to go wider. He was too weak to move now, though. Too sapped to fight back. His hips stuck around this relentless, throbbing dick. His pelvic inlet caught around the girth. Snagged, he was going forwards _and_ backwards with every buck of his attacker’s hips now.

Greater Dog sped up. A hungry, satisfied growl escaping his snout now and again. He was burning inside of the skeleton. Something wet dripping onto his bones. Sans was trying to block it out. Trying to not be here. He didn’t want to be present for this, but every shift forced him back to the reality. To the unwanted presence buried deep inside of him. To the fervent bucking of his hips. He didn’t want to allow this, but his body knew the motions of mating. Slowly, his magic started to form at his groin.

No, no, no, no! He should be out of energy. Where the fuck did it keep coming from?!

His magic solidified at his crotch, granting him new ways in which to experience the act. His cock formed, dangling limply between his legs. His anus materializing around the thick, intrusive shaft. It stretched, splitting wide.

“AUUGGGHHHHH!” He screamed out. Frantic. Sputtering, he spasmed in the snow beneath the mutt. “AGH! AUGH!”

The mammoth of a dog started snarling loudly over his screams, seemingly perturbed by Sans interrupting his moment with his unserviceable, shrill howling. He snapped his jaw threateningly near his skull. When Sans failed to halt his screams, slick fangs clamped down onto his stray arm. Teeth sinking into the bone. Cracks split away from the protrusions in his humerus like fragments of a fragile mirror. Red liquid filled the cracks, spilling down the bone. It stained the snow even darker. The low, threatening growl that followed vibrated his whole arm between the jowls.

“AUGH! AHNH!” He hardly heard it. Everything was pain. Eyes squeezed shut. He was nothing but a mess of senseless panic. “AH! UGHN!”

The mutt shook his head violently, ripping Sans’ limp arm this way and that. The sudden, violent movements did nothing to stop the panicked cries of the small skeleton, who was still impaled at the other end by the thick member. Every sudden jerk inviting more uncontainable screams, until the arm tore free from the socket.

No longer held up by the snarling mandible, Sans once again dropped into the snow, gasping for air that he couldn’t have. Erratic, violent spasms quaked through Sans’ chest every now and then, but he couldn’t find his voice anymore.

Satisfied he was no longer screaming, the mutt rutted deeply into him again. Gnawing on Sans’ dismembered arm between satisfied grunts. Enjoying his new chew toy. Few, slower, steady bucking motions rocked Sans’ body with only soundless cries gurgling up from his throat.

He was lurched forward suddenly as the girth plunged into him.

_Snap._

He was pretty sure that was his spine, but he wasn’t the only one who screamed.

Greater howled monstrously, releasing his toy. San’s dismembered arm smacked into the snow in front of his sockets. New nicks and grooves of teeth all up and down the bone. But it was covered in damning red, leaking out of every hole.

“Release. Him. Now.” The chilling voice commanded, a murderous growl laced through every syllable.

Greater was yanked back suddenly –and Sans went with him for a distance- until the intruding shaft slipped out of his split opening, releasing it from it’s tight, sopping confines. He flopped harshly into the snow, completely unable to move. Surely broken, his head cocked to the side, hollow sockets staring at nothing.

There was a brief scuffle behind. Then, Greater escaped, bounding away into the forest. Whining in fear. Familiar red boots immediately began to pursue, but the heels dug into the ice before they got too far away. He took a step back, turning to face him.

“Sa–hh” The cry sort of died off. Lost in the back of the throat as the teeth clamped down.

“ny- _eh_.” The laugh was dry. Dull. Like a hollow pop of air. “heh. heh heh. Heh Heh HEH.” Was Boss actually _laughing?_ It didn’t sound particularly amused. The sound was dark and heavy. More like someone had lost their mind. It bit off straight into a broken growl, “HAD SOME FUN, DID YOU?!”

The boots snapped militantly the other way. The whole forest seemed like it shook. The ground rumbled beneath all of them. A sea of enormous red bones shot up in the distance, creating a barrier. Cutting off Greater’s escape. One second the hound was backpedaling, the next he smashed into the ground with terrifying force. An insane gravity Sans could feel from here, crunching him down into the ground.

There was a crimson shimmer and the tip of a bone sword tipped down into sight next to the boots. Boss stalked forward. “How was it?” He asked, every word dripping uncontained malice. “Did my brother entertain you?”

Greater struggled to stand up, but, much like Sans had been before, he couldn’t seem to pull himself out of the snow. He grunted out a few panicked barks as the red cape approached. “I issued a strict order not to touch him; didn’t I? _Yet here you are,”_ A pointed red bone phased into existence. Then, just as quickly, shot forward. Ramming itself into the dog’s eye. Greater howled in pain. Boss smashed a boot sharply into the end of the bone, forcing it further into the socket. “ _Disobeying orders.”_

The mutt struggled beneath him. But again, couldn’t match the force willing him down. When he did manage to lift himself a bit off the ground, Boss shoved him back to the floor with the boot over his eye.

“What did you break first?” He demanded chillingly. “Was it his arm?” The black-clad skeleton leaned over, digging a talon into the hound’s front paw. Twisting it up and backwards. He didn’t stop turning until several nauseating snaps had creaked by. Echoing around the forest. The arm now clearly unusable. Next, he spun the blade up and rammed it down into the dog’s back. Twisting the handle to make it extra painful “Or was it his spine?” He sneered.

The Dog screeched. An unearthly, ear-splitting yelp that cut through the forest.

Boss smashed his boot sharply into the dog’s snout, holding the snapping maw down with a foot. Muffling his cries. “Shut up. We’ve got a lot of bones left to go,” He warned dangerously.

Lesser swooped in then, trying to save his friend. Snarling something fierce, he coiled quickly around the attacker. He dragged Boss off –or tried to. Papyrus just unsheathed his sword form the other hound’s back and, with blinding speed, shoved it into the hovering pest instead, pinning him against a nearby tree. Lesser shrieked instead, his long neck thrashing limply as he writhed in pain.

Ignoring him, Boss stalked back to his first prey. Face a mask of hardened rage, he proceeded to break Greater’s other arm. Starting from the furthest joint and working his way inward, he bent each one callously until it snapped. Or twisted them too far until they finally gave way. Every finger. Every knuckle. Wrist. Elbow. Socket. He found some other bones, too. Letting the dog cry loudly through the whole thing.

_Crack._

_Pop._

_Skkkkk!_

“ _PAPYRUS_!”

“Stop…!” Dogaressa’s voice begged.

Boss glared at the approaching voices, stone-faced and empty. Without even glancing away from them, he grabbed a fistful of the fur atop Greater’s head, sinking a finger into the empty socket for grip. Then, twisted that, too. Until it gave way.

_Snap._

The hound gurgled, spasming in the snow beneath his boot with a broken neck. He didn’t fall to dust. Maybe he still had hit points left; but he was clearly in incredible pain. Spasming beneath the red boot as Boss scrunched the gurgles into the snow.

“No…!”

Boss ripped his sword out of the nearby tree. Caught Lesser, who tried to flee, by the neck, dragging him closer. Wrangling him in by his extensive throat. Then, he threw the dog to the ground, stomping on his skull in a similar fashion as if to say ‘this one’s next.’

The face crunched under the shoe.

“PAPYRUS!” Undyne’s voice snarled disapprovingly. It sounded louder. Or closer. Sans couldn’t really tell. “I ORDER YOU TO STOP!” A pair of heavy boots vaulted over the broken heap towards the scene. Then, spun back as if to double-check what the hell it was they’d just jumped over. The second pair of feet wasn’t so generous. They practically trampled him.

Sans cringed in agony as pain split through his bones _again_.

Dogaressa sprinted to the scene, beating out Undyne as she rushed to her comrade’s side. Reaching her remaining paw out towards the damaged dog. Yet, before she got there, dozens of huge, long bones burst from the floor beneath him. Impaling the mutt. Greater was violently thrust up, where he exploded into a flurry of dust.

It trickled down.

The experience gained pushed Boss into level fifteen.

Dogaressa froze, staring openly horrified at where her friend had been as the dust danced down through the air. Slowly trembling, her face contorted into a mask of rage. “ _You_ –“

Boss yanked her back by the ears, shoving her into the snow. “Me…?” He asked unempathetically, leaving the question openly hanging in a challenge. As if daring her to try to do something about it. He towered over her, preparing a deadly crimson sword to strike. Face a stoic mask of chilling wrath.

“I’ll kill you!” She snarled out. Perhaps not realizing she was missing a weapon, an arm, or even the experience required to possibly take him on. The sword jutted in.

It clashed against a red spear.

“DAMN YOU!” Undyne cursed, intercepting the blow. Their weapons trembled against each other, clattering for power for several moments. Then, the Captain overpowered him, shoving him away. She stepped in to defend her guard.

“Move,” Boss demanded, closing back in. Face dead. He swung at his victim. The Captain met him. They clashed again.

This spat was much shorter. Undyne had proper footing this time. She caught his blade in the hook of her winged spear. She twisted, deflecting his blade off to the side. The back of the staff whipped around cracking him in the side. Forcefully enough to make even Boss stumble.

“You _fucking_ IDIOT!” She smashed the back of his head with her hand, steering him roughly away. She threw him out, towards Sans. “Look again. He’s alive, isn’t he?!”

Dogaressa didn’t seem too happy about the prospect the skeleton might still be breathing. Outraged, she shrieked, “You killed one of mine; while _yours_ was still–”

“YOU: Shut up!” Undyne bellowed. Clearly no more happy with her than she was with Papyrus. The Captain turned a menacing gaze down at the disobedient guard. Insubordination wasn’t something she took kindly to.

Boss teetered out in the direction of his fallen brother, regaining his balance. Once he got his feet under him, his red eyes snapped up to the broken heap. His voice sounded surprised to even see _a heap_ there instead of dust. “Sans?”

Sans hardly had the voice left to answer him. In fact, all his senses felt like they were going downhill pretty fast. But beneath the billowing coat, the ice and snow bit pleasantly into his naked bones with their freezing cold. _Finally_ numbing him.

“SANS!”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter:  
> Dusting wasn’t treated criminally until Undyne became Captain.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> *pats reader*  
> Hey...how 'ya holding up there buddy?
> 
>  
> 
> I for one feel horribly unclean. I must now go cleanse myself in the ancient purifying waters of the Himalayas. (×□×；)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  CHANGELOG: Minor updates to Chapter 13.  
> Minor changes to Chapter 14.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> I totally caved and cut this, but HEY, MORE STORY!!!  
> Shame on me. I shouldn't hold chapters that long, anyway!  
> Thank you all for waiting so long! You're so sweet! But just slap me next time xD
> 
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> Mandatory Recap:  
> *Boss breaks Greater’s neck*  
> Dogaressa: NO!  
> Undyne: No!  
> Everyone else: NO! KILL HIM FUCKING HARDER!  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

_The snow was cold. Freezing._

_He’d been sitting here next to the building like a beggar for over two hours. Of course, he wasn’t really begging. He knew no one would help. In fact, he was more nervous someone would get sick of seeing his mug out here next to the bar. Surely, someone would come after him any second. He was a sitting duck out in the open like this. He’d already seen a few passer-by eyeing him suspiciously from a distance. He tried not to think about those unsettling glances. He had a backdoor if he needed to use it. If it got bad; he could always run away. Shortcuts were useful like that. So, he tried to still his shaking hands._

_Yet huddling into himself didn’t help much. His T-shirt wasn’t very good protection against the icy winds that howled through the cavern today. If he could convince himself the wind and snow were the reason he was shaking to begin with._

_It was the cold –not fear, he kept repeating to himself._

_If he could set aside his paranoia, masquerading as a beggar was the perfect way to get people to ignore him. This plan was risky as fuck, but it had been too long since Pap had eaten –and he was running out of options at this point. His red eyes trailed cautiously after every pedestrian that walked by. Followed every customer that exited the building._

_Finally he spotted one._

_The bell on the door jingled as a large, hairy bear drunkenly lumbered out of the bar. He thundered by on large paws, but there, in his back pocket, sat a bag of defenseless coins, half-hanging out, sloppily shoved in._

_He tried not to look too obvious. He was going to do it._

_Sans waited for the bear to pass. Then, pushed himself onto his feet. The child trailed the prize several steps behind. Eyes glued nervously to the bag of coins. Soul racing._

_It was ok. He could get out if he needed to. He could run away. Keep your breath calm, dammit._

_Grabbing it with his hands would be too risky. They were shaking too much. Damn cold. Instead, he cautiously tried to lift the bag with his gravity magic. It wasn’t really trained for the finesse of small objects. He’d only ever used it to lift large areas at once –and nothing too heavy. But this was much smaller. He couldn’t tug the bear or he might notice and turn around. He had to concentrate. A small, precise area. The bag and all of the coins_ only.

_Focus._

_Slowly the brown bag began lifting out of the pocket. A stab of excitement washed over him down to his empty stomach. The sudden exhilaration of succeeding only split his concentration. The shirt started tugging up, too. Along with the pants. Both lifting as the focused area waned. Quickly, he dropped the magic._

_The bag flopped over the back of the pocket about to spill noisily over onto the ground! He grit is fangs in anticipation. But it snagged at the last second, dangling heavily out of the pocket._

_Sans tore his eyes away from the bag long enough to glance nervously up at the back of the bear’s head. Yet he didn’t turn around. The drunk scratched a large claw at the backside of his pants, absentmindedly fixing the wedgie as he walked. Sans held his breath, but the claw didn’t touch the bag even though it came frighteningly close. His target was still oblivious._

_The little skeleton tried again. Lifting the bag until it slipped out of the pocket. This time, it tugged free, hovering silently in the air._

_Success!_

_Sans sped up, intersecting the floating bag. The child snatched the prize out of the air with little hands. Tonight they would eat –and not just garbage. Actual food he could buy! Proud of himself, he watched the bear lumber away from his wallet down the snowy street, completely clueless it was even missing._

_He should do this more often._

_Smirking, Sans turned on his heel and walked the other way, clutching his newly prized wallet. He spun right into the figure standing behind him._

_He stumbled backwards, trying to catch the precious bag of coin juggling precariously between his hands. He swiped it out of the air, behind his back, and out of sight. He looked down at the hovering pedestrian awkwardly, meeting angry crimson eyes._

_“P-Pap, hey, there, buddy.” He shouldn’t be in the town. He was way too little. Unless it was an emergency, he should know better. Though, it wouldn’t be the first time his little brother had wandered too far from home to play. He really had to get him off of that bad habit. “What’re ‘ya doin’ here?”_

_Papyrus, standing at his tallest to only the bottom of his big brother’s chest, was scowling up at him. Two disapproving red irises, peered into his own above a vibrant red cape_ _snuggly fit around the bottom of his face. Little mittens crossed across his chest. “I saw that.”_

_Sans smiled nervously at him. “T-that? That wasn’t what it looked li-“_

_“Return it!” Pap demanded stubbornly. And loudly._

_“Shh!” Sans immediately tried to shush him, glancing over his shoulder. He was being too loud. Someone would hear him. Then, this spot would be ruined. He’d be ousted from the town. It was a small town, after all. News spread fast. He wouldn’t be able to pass as some harmless beggar._

_The thought of being silenced only made the little justice warrior louder, “It’s not yours! YOU HAVE TO GIVE IT BACK!” He ordered in the name of goodness, stamping a little boot into the snow._

_Sans clamped a hand desperately over his mouth, struggling with his little brother, who fought him off valiantly. Spilling a slew of dangerous truths, “That’s wron-mm! You can’t do tha-ack! Were you stealing? How long? Return them all! Sans! MMFPH!”_

_“Shuddup!” Sans hissed in his ear. He’d fully lifted the noisy hero off the ground into his arms, where he pinned Papyrus’ flailing arms down to his wriggling sides so he could properly clamp a hand over his blabbermouth._

_No sooner had it gone quiet that he noticed the shadow creeping over them._

_Sans flinched in a start, half turning back to confirm his fears. The monstrously huge bear was towering behind the two of them. His previous target seemed a lot bigger up close. Not that he wasn’t big before. He squeezed Papyrus, who’d also gone silent, tighter, turning the little bones away from the dangerous eavesdropper. Shielding him. A vicious rumble ripped past the bear’s throat, displaying a full set of sharp, rotted teeth. “Take somethin’ ‘o mine, boy?”_

_Yet it was good the monster didn’t outright attack. He took the small chances where he could get them._

_“Run,” Sans breathed in Pap’s ear, dropping him back into the snow._

_Good kid. Despite his stubbornness; he listened for once. He took off the second his little feet hit the floor._

_Sans let him get a head start, backing up slowly as the bear seethed down at him. Obviously not too happy to find his wallet in the pickpocket’s hand. He couldn’t wait long. There was no way he could take on an adult monster. What was he going to do? Usually he could speed away, blipping through shortcuts, but he couldn’t teleport away and leave Papyrus alone! Shortcuts only worked on one person;_ him.

_The bear loomed in –and the little skeleton started to lose his nerve._

_He waited until he could stall no longer, then scrambled away as fast as he could go. Pap was pretty fast for a kid his age, but his legs were still short. It wasn’t long before Sans caught up to him, matching his speed. But no matter how fast the two of them were, the distance they covered was nothing compared to the distance of a few bounds the bear could make._

_They could feel the ground thundering behind them._

_One second, they were running next to each other. The next, Pap’s feet flew out from under him as his trailing cape got snagged by a massive claw. Choking, the child flew up, horizontal, and smacked down into the snow._

_Fuck. Fuck!_

_Sans skidded to a stop, sliding across the ice as he turned back towards his fallen brother, sunken into the snow. A massive form looming over him._

_He pelted the bear in the face with his bag of coins. Forcing him to look away from his captured prey. “Fine! Take it!” He yelled._

_The massive form just shook it off, chuckling. The wallet sunk into the snow. “Not good enough,” The bear growled at him mockingly, dragging his little brother back through the snow slowly towards him. Enjoying the children’s fear._

_Bastard! He wasn’t after his wallet. He wasn’t after_ revenge _! He just wanted the experience!_

_Pap was easy prey, sitting at level one. Sans wasn’t much better off, at level two._

_“Agh!” Papyrus let the little squeak of alarm die in the back of his throat as the cape constricted around his neck, mittens flying up to the scarf._

_Sans knew he wouldn’t suffocate, but he knew this was bad. He didn’t have time to think it through. He took a shortcut closer, sprinting the rest of the way towards the bear from the side. As he ran he summoned a bone in his hand, sharpened to a point. It wasn’t long, but he hoped it would do the trick._

_The bear didn’t see him vanish, too distracted staring down at his easy prey. Nor did he see him coming either. Sans leapt onto his back, lodging the bone into the beast’s shoulder down to the thickest part._

_The bear grunted, trying to shake him off. Spinning this way and that. But Sans had already grappled on with one hand around the beast’s neck. The bear tried to swipe at him, but didn’t have the reach to claw him on his back. So, he tried to go after Sans’ hands next. The little skeleton was forced to let go of his hold on the throat before his opponent snatched him and dragged him around to the front._

_He let go. Sliding a fair way down the back, before he saved himself by lodging yet another sharpened bone into his back. The bear grunted again, twisting and shaking as Sans held on using the imbedded spikes as leverage._

_“Get off ‘o me!” The bear snarled._

_Sans answered by letting go of his shoulder, just so he could ram a third spike into his back with all his weight behind it._

_The bear growled. Then, dropped himself to the ground. Sans, who was dangling from his back, found himself suddenly horizontal about to be crushed by a massive weight. He threw himself out to the side at the last moment, scrambling to safety._

_The bear thudded into the ground in his failed attempt to flatten him. Even so, he’d succeeded in getting Sans back in his line of sight –and reach. The bear rolled over, sending a massive paw crashing down over him._

_The little skeleton saw it coming. He desperately threw himself into the first distortion he saw, without any knowledge of where it might take him. He vanished right as the paw smashed down._

_He flipped through the void, tumbling out an exit onto his butt a few paces in front of the bear. The massive monster seemed to peek under his paw curiously only to find Sans wasn’t there. He looked around, searching frantically for just a split second before he found the little skeleton in front of him._

_The bear growled, dragging himself forward to swipe sloppily at him again._

_Sans threw all his weight to the side, lunging out of the path of the fatal claw. It crushed the snow next to him. Quick on his wits, Sans willed another bone knife into his hand, slicing out at the hairy arm. It connected, sinking into the flesh. Yet the only damage it caused seemed to be irritation. Making the beast angrier._

_He locked up as the beast snarled at him. Realizing he wasn’t doing any real damage._

_Move. Run. Do something! Don’t freeze. If he wasn’t going to win this, he had to flee!_

_Sans started to back away as the bear rose out of the snow, towering over him. Tufts of white spilling off the massive form as it rose._

_Get out of here!_

_A flash of red caught his eye._

_His crimson eyes flicked past his opponent to Papyrus hesitating in the snow several steps behind the beast. Instead of being long gone; he was back on his feet, awkwardly holding his mittens up like he didn’t know how to intrude on the fight. The child looked positively horror-stricken when the bear stood, revealing the bones his big brother had viciously lodged into the scruff of thick fur on the monster’s back._

_“Pap! Get outta here!” Sans snapped. He couldn’t run away while Pap was still here._

_The smaller child bristled at his harsh tone, but didn’t leave. Damn him. He was never good at taking orders. Instead of doing what he was told, he scooped up the wallet from the ground nearby and waved it around. “Wait! Stop! Forgive us!” He hopped on the tips of his boots, trying to get the bear’s attention. “We’re returning it! So, let him go!”_

_Too naïve, Pap._

_Yet it was effective._

_The massive form turned on his little brother._

_Shit. He should have never brought Pap to his attention. He was boring prey in comparison to Papyrus. Easy to kill, but too hard for the drunken beast to catch. Pap on the other hand… if he let the smallest get away, the bear might have wasted his time and gotten no experience from them at all._

_Snarling, Sans charged wildly in at the bear again. He slammed another dagger-like bone into the bear’s side. Risking getting in too close as he tried to pull his opponent’s attention back towards himself again. The bear just let the spike bury into his thick skin, half-heartedly swatting at the annoying pest. Shooing him away._

_He intended to vanish, but there wasn’t a shortcut close enough. He hadn’t planned a proper exit. He was stuck where he was._

_So, as a massive paw, half his size, barreled in; he threw his weight backwards. In the rushed, sloppy dodge he easily lost his balance. Offsetting his top-half too far backwards, his feet slipped along the ice, flying out from under him as the danger passed overhead. He fell, foolishly, into the snow. Headfirst._

_“SANS!” Pap cried. Alarmed._

_That caught the bear’s interest. He was a sitting duck if he was stuck on his back. And the chance to splat the annoying fly before he missed the opportunity seemed just tempting enough to turn the bear’s attention back his way._

_His landing was a lot softer in Snowdin than it would’ve been anywhere else. Unfortunately, that didn’t make the dizzying ordeal any less jarring._

_He wrestled himself out of the snow into a sitting position on shaky arms. Soul pounding viciously. If he’d taken the claws, instead of the fall, he’d be dead right now. No –even just the pads with enough force could’ve easily –He shook his disoriented head, trying to get a grasp on the spinning images long enough to force his feet under him. He knew he couldn’t stay down like this. But it was too late. He knew he’d lost._

_The world settled on the image of the bear poised over him. Large claw drawn back to smash him into oblivion._

_But, there, between the two of them; a little back and red cape stood tall. Bravely placed between the fallen skeleton and his attacker. Two short arms stretched out far to the sides, defending him._

_The claw came down suddenly –viciously- and the image of his brother was gone. Swiped out of existence. Replaced by a loud, sickening CRACK. The world should have just fallen away from him there. It may as well have been the sound of his own soul breaking._

_“PAPYRUS!” Sans’ blood curdling scream echoed out like a boom of thunder, stirring up the storm in his soul. The cry somehow piercing its way through the cutting winds._

_The little form of his brother fell unceremoniously to the snow at the larger monster’s feet. Crumpled into an eerily still heap against the white. Red scarf barely caught by the wind. The child wasn’t moving. There was a huge crack taken out of his socket. His skull was busted open._

_Sans struggled to claw himself through the snow towards his fallen brother._

_“Pap! PAP-!” He shook the broken form gingerly, but he didn’t move. “Say somethin’! Pap!” He begged frantically. A few more pieces crumbled away from the child’s skull. Helpless, Sans could only watch in terror as the pieces trickled away._

_His soul lodged up in his throat, silencing him. Waiting for the dreaded moment he knew was coming next. Waiting for the small, delicate bones of the fragile skeleton to turn to dust in his hands._

_But… So, much time passed, Sans felt his soul start to beat again._

_It never happened._

_The bear snorted a laugh, grinning toothily._ Proud _of himself. “Stupid, ain’t he? Easiest prey I’ve ever had. Didn’t even draw a weapon.”_

_He didn’t seem to realize Pap hadn’t dusted._

_Yet. Hadn’t dusted_ yet.

_He corrected himself, swallowing the thick bile of that tauntingly cruel hope back down his throat. He could have just been falling apart slowly. Sans turned his searing gaze up at the towering bear. The most guttural, animalistic sound hissed past his own throat. “What did ‘ya do?! He didn’t even attack ‘ya!”_

_The bear shrugged nonchalantly, as if none of that mattered. “First rule ‘o life, kid: Kill or be killed. A monster who can’t even draw a weapon is just fodder for the strong. Don’t’cha even know that?” He grinned with his rotted teeth, looming in. Ready to take his second prey._

_If there was even the tiniest chance his little brother survived this, he couldn’t let the bear notice. Or he’d be finished off._

_Sans couldn’t stay down with Papyrus. So, even though he wanted to hold him to his last breath, he stood up, holding one hand out to the side where he formed the largest bone he’d ever made. A huge, crimson colored club. It didn’t have the biting edge the little daggers had, but red bones were magic. Magic was his specialty. It blazed from his eye like a fearsome flame. He stepped over the body, tearing his own eyes away from the little form. “I ain’t new ‘ta the rules,” He snarled back._

_But he had purposely never taught them to Pap. That’s why this was_ his _fault, wasn’t it? Pap hadn’t drawn a weapon to defend himself because of_ him. _He never taught Pap how the world was supposed to work. He’d skipped the very first rule of the Underground. He’d let him stay naïve and innocent instead of preparing him for life in this hellhole._

_He only told him, “Be careful! Stay hidden!”, but he’d never told him he’d have to kill if he was found. How you stole if you were starving. How there weren’t any heroes or good things so he shouldn’t go looking for them past Waterfall. Past home. Past the narrow crevice in the wall where Sans could tell him whatever sweet lie his little brother wanted to hear._

_He was so fucking mad at himself! He didn’t know how to raise a kid- he_ was _a kid! Had he done it wrong? Had wanting Pap to be happy –wanting him to smile- been such a terrible idea that it had cost him his life?!_

_He dug his knuckles into the rough texture of the bone club at his side as he paced slowly out to the side –away from the fallen child. The bear’s eyes were drawn to his vibrant red club, following the weapon’s movements as he steered his attention away. He doubted he was strong enough to take on an adult monster. But –no!- dammit, if there was even the slimmest chance Papyrus survived, he couldn’t let the bear live long enough to figure that out! He’d have to kill him. Or mislead him. Then, maybe, he could take Pap to safe–_

_The bear went first. Taking advantage of a shocked child. He batted a massive paw at the small form, claws out._

_Sans saw it coming, but he was unprepared. He started to run, but it quickly became apparent he wouldn’t make it in time. He spotted one of the telltale shimmers in the air, like a heat’s wave, right at the last second. He threw himself into the shortcut’s distortion right as the silver claws swiped by._

_He practically rolled out of the exit, apparently landing to the bear’s left. He had to duck again as the finishing arc of the previous swipe, swished overhead. His heart thudded against his ribcage._

_He was definitely going to have to use more of those if he was going to survive this. But first he’d have to get on his feet! The bear had already spotted him again._

_He was moving before the paw even drew back to swing. Which was a stupid thing to do because then the bear knew which way he was dodging towards. When he realized he’d never dodge in time; he thrust the club in front of himself bracing himself for the blow._

_The paw smashed down, right across the club. The force of the blow shoved Sans deeper into the snow, burying him. It would have crushed him, too. However, the bear hadn’t been expecting the sting of the magic club. The weapon retaliated, lightly damaging him for every_ millisecond _he used force against it. Tallying up damage at a rapid pace._

_The bear pulled away quickly, sneering at the weapon. Displaying his rotted teeth._

_Sans peeked past the bone. Grinning back, he showed off his own fangs. The unsettling sort of smile that wasn’t truly happy. Finally, something that hurt the beast! So, it wasn’t impossible. If he could fight. He could kill._

_He rose to his feet, trying to keep focus on the bear’s movements while simultaneously keeping track of the locations of the shifting void. Marking his retreats. The distortions were difficult to spot as he kept his attention focused on his opponent. However, he managed to fall into a rhythm as the bear swiped at him. He dodged through a shortcut._

_He landed on the slick ice to the bear’s left again. A ninety degree turn from his last location. Quick to orient himself, Sans took another swipe at the bear. It connected, but did next to nothing against him._

_Right. The club wasn’t useful against a motionless target._

_The beast spun towards him again, lashing out. It missed. Sans danced between each massive swing. Spinning him dizzily around. Playing wack-a-mole with his own head. Every time the bear missed, he’d try a swing of his own with his offhand. This time, though, using one of the smaller bone daggers. They didn’t do much damage. Not nearly as much as the bone club could do in the right conditions._

_The bear didn’t even really seem perturbed to have the tiny bones sticking out of him at all. A child-sized dagger. It was no more than a toothpick to the enormous beast. Plus, Sans was physically weak in practically everything. His little parlor tricks were the only talent he had to his name._

_So, he should use them._

_He spit his next shortcut out behind the beast. Back exposed. He lodged the knife into his spine. Adding a fourth decoration to the spikes._

_The bear roared, familiar with this tactic. He swiped wildly behind him without even looking. Yet, again, he couldn’t reach. Sans took advantage of the chaos to continue his charge straight up the back. Running up as far as he could go, using the spikes as footholds. This time, instead of grappling on with his hand, he looped the crimson club over the beasts head. Fastening the choke securely around his opponent’s neck with an elbow. He squeezed as hard as he could._

_The bear thrashed as he was gagged, but that just played into Sans’ plan. Every movement he made, chipped away at his health._

_“GET OF–“ The bear choked out._

_Sans only squeezed harder in response._

_It wasn’t long before the bear, dropped himself back into the snow. Repeating the same thing he had before. This time, Sans was ready for it._

_He jumped off the back at the first sign of falling. With his spare hand, Sans summoned a bed of dozens of little bone knives from the floor. The bear fell right into them. Dropping his entire massive weight onto the spikes._

_Individually, they might be weak. But, combined, surely, they were enough to leave a nasty scar._

_The bear roared in pain. Actual pain. Not annoyance or irritation._

_But, still, he lived. The beast leapt off of the spikes as fast as he could. Enraged, he charged straight for Sans. Who promptly exited into a shortcut, allowing the beast to barrel past him drunkenly. Skidding across the ice._

_Sans watched him go from the sidelines, but couldn’t resist. He took the opportunity, abusing the upper hand. He got in close, dealing a few quick strikes while the beast was out of control. But he didn’t stay that way for long. The bear quickly recovered himself, slashing out viciously at the small child while he was in range._

_Sans stumbled into the first shortcut he could. Frantic to miss the batting claw of the massive paw before it connected. He avoided it, landing across the shortcut a few steps away to the bear’s right. But as he looked up, the bear had already turned to swat him. Lucky guess._

_He jumped back just in the nick of time to save himself from a horizontal swing of the claws. It skimmed his T-Shirt, ripping it. Another was quick to follow. Then, another. And another. As the bear swung his arms wildly, just hoping he’d hit._

_Sans glanced just out of reach of every hit. Jumping, ducking, diving, doing anything he had to do to dodge on his tiny limbs. However, the consecutive attacks kept him busy. He wasn’t focusing on the distortions, so he naturally lost sight of them. Too concerned with the claws that might take his life. He didn’t even notice where he ended up._

_He jumped in a start when his back pressed the bark of a pine, but he couldn’t go forward. He was blocked in. The bear chuckled. Maybe he’d fallen straight into his trap. Herded along. He held his weapon up, anyway. Ready to defend against any attack, but he knew this was his last stand._

_His eyes darted for an exit, but his eyes weren’t adjusted to the distortions anymore._

_Dammit. He couldn’t even do this right. He was stuck. No way out. Pinned against the tree. He couldn’t even avenge Pap. He was so fucking useless! He grit is fangs, glaring defiantly up at the monster who’d robbed him of his little brother._

_The bear lumbered in front of him laughing. “Like I said; easiest prey–“ He was cut off suddenly, by a series of_ thuds, _eyes growing wide. Stiffly, he turned his head around to look behind him. The brute teetered to the side, stumbling entirely past Sans. There were about eight full-sized bones lodged into his back. All shaped like the bone swords Papyrus liked to play with when he was playing hero. The beast fell, roughly slamming into the ground to the side._

_Behind him stood Papyrus. Little arms outstretched, panting heavily. Eyes blazing in a similar fashion to Sans’. They snuffed out the second the bear fell over. Pap flinched when the brute crashed heavily into the snow. A slow shock growing across his face. Then, hot tears spilled over the sockets –or what was left of them._

_“Pap!” Sans cried relieved. He pushed himself away from the tree, scooping up his little brother into his arms. Papyrus latched onto him, but Sans wasn’t just hugging him; he was dragging him away. Dragging him away from the motionless monster. Dragging him away from his first kill._

_He had to get away._

_“Sans –He,” Papyrus tried to squeak out his defense, “–He –Ah! AHH!”_

_Apparently he wasn’t fast enough, Pap had spotted the body disintegrating over his shoulder. The little body flinched in his arms, mittens clamping down around him in pure terror. Sans squeezed him back harder._

_Fuck. Pap shouldn’t have to see this! Go faster!_

_The child’s cries of panic were choked off by a gagging sound. Pap kicked and squirmed until he had twisted out of Sans’ grasp where he vomited all over the snow at his feet. A visceral reaction from seeing the body fall apart._

_What was he doing? Pap wasn’t in any condition to move._

_Sans winced, crouching down to his little brother who was retching and heaving all over the fresh snow like he actually had something he could expel. “Hey, Pap, hey,” He tried to help prop him up, since his arms were shaking so badly. “’Yer alright. Come’ere, buddy.”_

_He tugged his little brother into his lap, spinning them around putting Pap’s back to the kill. If he was gagging over the body disintegrating; he probably didn’t want to accidentally look past him and see what was left. He glanced past the distressed child to the half-fallen body nearby. They hadn’t gotten very far away. A slight hiss, like sand falling, polluted the air as the dust continued to decompose, eating away at the flesh. Collapsing it._

_He looked back down at his little brother. The small skeleton was missing half his face._

_Sans stroked Pap’s one good cheek gently, holding him tight with the other arm so he couldn’t look behind them. His crimson eyes darted across the familiar features, but for as much as it was damaged, he was still moving fine. He seemed to be holding up –physically. Surprisingly. Guess he was a lot stronger than Sans was. Thank the stars! He’d always been afraid Pap might turn out like him._

_“Shh. Shh. ‘Yer okay,” He soothed, stroking his skull. Rocking them together. “‘Yer gonna be fine.”_

No… He wasn’t. Don’t lie to him.

_“He was –He was,” Pap tried to choke out the sentence past tears, “He was a bad person!”_

_“Yeah, he was,” Sans agreed. He tapped his skull to Pap’s. “’Ya did the right thing, okay?”_

No, he didn’t. Don’t tell him that!

_Pap made a horribly conflicted face, like he wanted to agree, but he couldn’t. Tears still flooding out of his sockets, his eyes locked onto Sans’ red irises full of hope. “I did?”_

No, ‘ya didn’t! Pap, ‘yer better than all that!

_His brother didn’t sound like he really believed that, but he desperately wanted to. The little guy had always been more ethically sound than he was. Hell, Pap was the_ only _moral compass Sans had! If Pap couldn’t claim it had been just, how could Sans, of all people, possibly sit here with a straight face and tell him otherwise?_

_That is exactly what he did._

_He smiled adoringly at his little brother, rubbing the small, trembling back. “’Yeah. Of course ‘ya did!” He promised._

Liar! Fucking _liar_! Stop lying to him!

_Pap was still crying._

_“’Ya did a great job, too!” He encouraged, nuzzling the little, broken skull close. “You listen ‘ta me: Just like that; ’ya need ‘ta kill or be killed, Pap. Don’t ever let someone hit you like that again. Ok?”_

_He’d corrupted him._

_Pap was a smart kid. It didn’t take him long to figure out the rest. The concept was simple enough: The more he killed; the stronger he got –and any hero worth a damn was strong if they were going to protect anyone. That had hardly been the last time Pap killed someone. It certainly wasn’t the last time in Sans’ defense either. He’d praised him every time for being brave. For being smart. For doing the right thing. So, Pap kept killing and killing and killing. There were so many “justified” murders that Sans had lost count of them all. Papyrus soared through the levels. Until watching someone die didn’t faze him in the slightest._

_Until he’d long since outgrown a need for comfort or validation afterwards._

_The long, slender hand slipped around his neck, clamping down around his vertebrae. Stealing away all his air. Robbing him of his breath. Sans clawed futilely at the gloved claw around his neck, but the hand didn’t budge. Huge-eyed he stared fearfully into the cold, expressionless,_ familiar _irises staring back at him. Unwavering even as that last bout of air parted his throat and he was left, gagging and sputtering on nothing._

_He’d probably outgrown Sans a long time ago, too._

_“If I tell you to do something; You. Do. It.” Boss growled low in his ear._

_The command sent a cold chill down his whole spine. Boss was going to kill him one of these days on a whim. He knew it. As long as he deemed the offense fitting of a dusting, that was all the approval he needed anymore. He was strong enough to make those calls on his own now. Without Sans._

_His huge, terrified sockets darted between the two familiar eyes, but neither of them held his little brother anymore._

_His small hands scraped frantically against the glove clasped around his neck. It only tightened in response. Creaking the vertebrae along his neck. He wouldn’t really suffocate. He knew that. But the panic was real. The fear. The pain._

The discomfort hit him first.

It racked up every limp, raced through every bone. Everywhere was achingly sore. Chest heaving, his eyes snapped open, staring at an unsettlingly familiar ceiling he’d seen way too much of recently.

“Don’t give me that face,” A rough woman’s voice scolded. “I _said_ you’d owe me.”

Sans’ brow twitched uneasily, hearing angry voices nearby. He was lying on his back on something soft. He knew he’d just been asleep, but he didn’t feel rested at all. In fact, he felt like he’d just come from the snow beneath Greater.

Everywhere hurt.

“I didn’t realize your favors were so damn expensive,” The other voice hissed.

“HAH!” The woman barked a snide laugh. “You should know me better by now. You’re paying me back –with interest- for putting up with your bullshit this long.” There was a pause, then she continued more seriously. “I won’t tolerate in-fighting among our ranks, Papyrus. If we want to change anything, we have to lead by example. We can’t be trying to kill each other. He has to be dealt with. One way or the other. You _know_ that.”

“He’s not even awake,” Boss spat back, livid.

Clearly, Sans had poorly timed his opportunity to sit up. A hundred different pains seemed to creep up his spine, settling into his bones. A sharp ache spread out along his extremities down to his fingertips. Vividly reminding him he wasn’t in any dream anymore. He groaned miserably, wincing his eyes against the light. Unaccustomed to its accompanying sting, he held both hands up to still his spinning head.

The voices cut off abruptly.

Both? As in two hands?

Suspiciously he pulled the hands away. Again, trying to open his eyes, training them to focus on the hands held before him. Sure enough, he had both hands. Someone must have returned his missing arm back to its socket. Perks of being a skeleton, he supposed. The bones on that hand were gnawed unevenly. The tissue had been chewed down, with lots of teeth marks. He tested the joint shakily, yet it seemed to function just fine.

Just more visual imperfections added to his ever-growing list.

Eyes trailing down further, he seemed to be shirtless. Nothing but the blanket he’d unsettled draped around his waist. He let his hazy gaze wander to the sides, confirming his location.

It was Papyrus’ room. Papyrus’ bed.

The sudden silence was unnerving.

He let his eyes drift sullenly past the end of the bed, allowing two figures by the doorway to blur into view. As expected, Captain Undyne stood to the left, arms crossed, staring down at him. To her right, Sans’ eyes locked with the crimson irises from the nightmare across the room. The Lieutenant frowned harder when their eyes met. Boss wasn’t even happy to see him.

Sans wilted under that stranger’s harsh gaze.

“Looks like he’s up,” Undyne noted unenthusiastically. Yet neither of them said anything. Boss remained glaring as Sans shriveled. She glanced between the two of them, picking up on the rather tense mood.

She sighed irritably, “I’ll leave you two alone, then. I’ll be back same time tomorrow, Papyrus. You’d better have an answer for me by then or _I’ll_ pick for you.” She clasped the tall skeleton on the shoulder, whose expression didn’t change in the slightest. “You should be grateful I’m even giving you a choice after that stunt you pulled.” She seemed to lean in, pulling him closer. “Don’t pick the stupid one, alright?” She whispered, yet her booming voice was loud enough for Sans to hear. Then, she let herself out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Boss half-turned to watch her go, until the door was securely shut, then his piercing eyes snapped back to Sans.

They were alone.

Papyrus didn’t greet him or welcome him back from the dead as he closed the distance between them. He crossed the room in a few quick strides. Sans struggled for something to say, but all his words gagged in the back of his throat when the gloved talon naturally found its way beneath his skull. In one fluid motion, Boss had shoved him back down to the mattress by his neck, pinning him to the bed.

 “Don’t get up,” He commanded threateningly.

Sans didn’t even try. Even so, the fingers curled snuggly around the vertebrae. Tightening their grip. Sans winced. But what was he expecting; a hug? He shouldn’t be surprised. He had grown to expect this type of behavior out of Boss. It wasn’t even unusual anymore.

So, he should stop feeling shocked already. Calm down. Stop trembling. This wasn’t the dream. He wasn’t being choked. …Yet.

The black-clad skeleton stared him down for some time. Slowly the Lieutenant’s eyes drifted away from Sans’ huge irises to roam across all the exposed, injured bones. Suddenly, the fingers twitched against his neck as his eyes settled on something. Boss didn’t even look him in the eye as he angrily spat, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

There were a dozen things that could fit that criteria. But Boss was waiting for an answer, so he bumbled through a guess. The dogs? “I d-didn’t know they were gonna be there,” Sans weakly began to insist, recounting the final moments.

“Not that!” Boss snapped. In an outburst of rage, he pushed down suddenly on his neck, pressing him aggressively further into the cushions.

Sans knew he didn’t need the air, but he panicked anyway. Trashing briefly and grabbing hold of the attacking arm. However, he chose not to fight it past his initial impulses. He knew it was pointless. Boss would do whatever he wanted; even if he ended up breaking him.

The intimidating skeleton eased up quickly once the smaller stilled. “Your fucking soul, Sans!” He corrected, glaring hard at him. “I told you to tell me if it got any worse.”

_That’s_ why he was mad at him? He let his hands slip hopelessly from the stronger arm. There was no point deterring him. “Didn’t notice,” The little skeleton muttered ruefully dropping his eyes to the side. Lying automatically.

The talon clamped back down around his neck again. But this time he _did_ struggle –a lot- as Boss reached a claw up into his ribcage. He kicked and squirmed against the invading force, but his efforts got him nowhere. He felt as if a strong fist closed crushingly around his entire body as Boss forcibly ripped out his soul. Removing the red light from within his chest. The breath went right out of him. And he certainly couldn’t get any more while being strangled.

He gagged and wheezed, tugging against the arm’s pressure weakly. But strangulation was hardly the most constricting feeling he was being subjected to at this moment.

“You expect me to believe you didn’t notice _this,_ ” Boss hissed, shoving his fist in front of his vision. Sans couldn’t relax. Everything was tense. Twisted up inside him until Boss opened his palm, allowing the glowing red heart to float in front of his face. By then, he just felt hollow.

It resembled a jigsaw puzzle more than a heart.

One that would have no hope of getting put back together once it fell apart.

There were _multiple_ deep cracks splitting through the vivid red shape that each spiraled off into a smaller web of intersecting cracks. Making dozens of little shards. Their broken, jagged blackness had already claimed an overwhelming majority of the vivid red glow of his life. The fissures lessened in thickness and intensity as they crept towards the last, single, remaining sector of light left untouched in the left arc.

His hope sunk at the sight. He’d been avoiding looking at it because he was too afraid to know. Heh. Looked like he didn’t have a lot of time left, then, huh?

Boss’ fist closed around it once again. Crushing him. Squeezing him. Strangling his own life. A terrifying pressure on all sides. Sans didn’t know if Boss didn’t know his own strength or just didn’t care. As that disturbing heaviness closed around his soul –around him, he viscerally wanted to be anywhere else.

“S-s-stop it!” Impulsively his own hands jutted up to grab Boss’ arm, wrestling with the fist. Sans snatched his soul away to safety. “Are ‘ya tryin’ ‘ta break it?!”

“Me?” Boss questioned icily. “I should be asking the same thing to you! Why the hell did you think it was ok to go into battle with a soul that looks like this?!” He bellowed, voice steadily rising in anger as he carried on.

Sans rolled the other way on the mattress, facing away from Boss. Sulking, he curled protectively around the precious red light that he clutched close to his chest. He flinched at every spike in volume as Boss chewed him out. Fearing any one of those might be the one where he snapped.

“Dammit, Sans! You shouldn’t have gotten into a fight at all! You should’ve come to _me_ the second you knew something was happening!”

“Don’t ‘ya t-think I tried that first?” Sans interrupted quietly. Trying to defend himself. “The shortcuts w-w-weren’t workin’ right. I thought I might get stuck i-in the void if I tried it again.”

The Lieutenant’s booming voice overshadowed his weak plea. “So, you’re telling me you let _this_ happen because you’re afraid of the fucking dark?” Boss countered incredulously. Sarcastically adding, “Splendid idea, Sans! Take on three fully armed guards with a broken soul and one damn hit point!”

The void wasn’t just _dark._ It was nothing! The absence of everything. No air, no light, no life. It was basically limbo. What he was suggesting wasn’t even –“So, ‘ya wanted me ‘ta just give up? Go off into some vacuum and _die_?”

He regretted saying it the second it left his mouth. He should know better by now.

This was a one-sided discussion.

Boss didn’t appreciate being argued with. His dangerously low voice left no room for dispute, “If you were seriously interested in _living,_ you wouldn’t have showed a pack of dogs who want nothing more than your murder that you’ve only got one health!”

“But I _lived_ , didn’t I?!” Sans snarled back. Why did he keep opening his big mouth?

 “Maybe you can explain that to me as well,” Boss snapped savagely, looming further over him. “What was that red stuff everywhere?”

Sans sunk further into the mattress, avoiding him. So, he’d seen that, too. Of course, he had. It had been everywhere. Dyed all over the snow.

“Why didn’t you _dust,_ Sans?” He asked more irritably.

He didn’t know.

“What the fuck did you do to yourself?!” Boss demanded his answers, heavy presence domineering. “Sans!”

Hell if he knew!

“I dunno!” He admitted agitatedly. Didn’t make any sense grilling him about _surviving_. He was the one who’d had to _live_ through the whole thing _._ “But I l-lived, didn’t I?” Somehow, the defense sounded weaker now. Like he shouldn’t have even bothered with that much.

He could hear Boss fuming silently behind him.

“Good job, Sans,” He sneered, “You lived.” Voice bereft of that angry edge, it had fallen back to its usual tone; only threateningly on the verge of anger instead of dripping with rage. He felt the weight of the mattress dip as Boss sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “In the most technical sense of the term,” He corrected snidely.

No shit.

The silence dividing them was so poisonous it could be used to wage chemical warfare. Sans knew better than to talk back, though. He shouldn’t have done it at all. He should only be speaking when spoken to. He swallowed all the things that should be said back down the lump in his throat. Still facing the other way as he avoided his interrogator.

 “How’s your arm?” Boss demanded, calmer, after an exceptionally long pause without any response from Sans.

Sans held it up and clenched a fist in demonstration. Apathetically, he spat, “It works.”

“Your spine?”

Sans wiggled briefly, testing it out, “It works.”

“Legs?”

Sans curled further in on himself, cradling his delicate soul close to his chest. He slipped it safely back into his ribcage, so it wouldn’t get caught in their crossfire. He was sick of this invasive interrogation already. “ _Everythin’_ works.” He insisted in irritation.

 No sooner had the words left his mouth, than a hand caught his face. Taloned fingers pinched uncomfortably into his cheekbones. Boss yanked his head around to face him, craning his neck painfully in the opposite direction. He tried to flinch out of the hold, but a talon held him firmly still.

“Sans,” That dangerous voice snarled at him. “I am in _no mood_ for your wordplay right now. If I ask you a question; you’ll give me an honest answer,” He threatened. Growling, “How’s. Your. Arm?”

Sans’ eyes sunk away from his face. “It hurts.”

“Your spine?” Boss repeated, running through the list again.

“It also h-hurts.”

“Your legs?”

“Those hurt, too.”

“Your pelvis?”

Sans went silent and Boss squeezed his cheeks menacingly, forcing out the cringed response, “Yeah.” He admitted, “T-t-that hurts, too.”

Boss grimaced harder, but his grip softened slightly against his skull, allowing Sans to breathe easier. The index finger scratched the side of his temple. Up and down. In a slow, distracting gesture. “Forget that happened. He’s dead now. Alright?”

There was a flaw in that logic. Sans didn’t think the things people did just went away when they died.

He found himself looking anywhere but at Boss’ face. It was uncomfortable enough to come this close to talking about those events out loud. He’d rather just sweep this whole mess under the rug with the rest of the memories that he wished never happened. This was at least an order he could agree with. Forgetting sounded pretty nice right about now.

“Okay, Boss.” He answered sullenly, repeating the familiar words.

The tenseness in the tall, intimidating skeleton seemed to relax a bit. Maybe he was even relieved. “Do you really not know what’s wrong with your body? Answer me honestly, Sans,” Boss asked sternly. Thankfully, quick to move onto other subjects.

“I ain’t got a clue, Boss.”

Boss let go of his head. Tension lost, his skull suddenly crashed back to the pillows. “Then you are going to stay in bed until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Not your room. Not the couch. _This_ room,” He commanded. “Now that you’re up, I’ve got a pile of work I need to get to. Get some more rest while I’m out. I’ll be back home later. The doors will be locked. Be smart and _don’t_ answer it if anyone knocks.”

“Got it, Boss.”

Boss briefly ran his hand along the side of the smaller’s skull. Yet his tone remained firmly strict, “Good boy.”

Sans didn’t know if he felt _happy_ to hear those nostalgic words, but, at the very least, he didn’t feel unsafe. It meant Boss wasn’t mad at him. Truth be told, he felt even safer knowing Boss was going to leave him alone for a while. A small part of him felt like shit for even thinking that. But, it was true.

He felt better when Boss wasn’t around.

He curled himself back under the covers, cutting the hint of affection short. Hiding beneath the sheets. The black-clad skeleton got up and left shortly afterwards, heels clicking across the floor. He closed the door behind him without slamming it for once.

He remained gone for several hours. In fact, a _long_ time passed. To the point where a new day’s light shone past the curtains into the room.

Despite the orders he was given, Sans couldn’t get any sleep. Honestly, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to risk it. He’d had enough of being plagued by nightmares. So, he laid still in the plush bed for all those hours instead, staring at the blank ceiling. The covers kept him warm, but he could tell by the coolness against his sore bones that he’d been stripped naked and pieced back together. Lying _naked_ on this particular bed, staring at this particular ceiling, was rather uncomfortable. Unsettling for the very reason he was avoiding sleeping.

It made him think about things he didn’t want to think about.

In the end, he decided to at least go fetch some clothes. He was too agitated to stay in bed any longer. The small skeleton threw the covers back and sat up. All his weary bones creaked unpleasantly. Clearly not in favor of moving whatsoever, but he ignored them. Setting his bare feet down on the cool floor, he stood up. The first thing he noticed was how awkwardly difficult it was to keep his own balance. As if the strength in all his limbs had been sapped. Yet if he could manage standing; he’d be fine.

He caught sight of his jacket on Papyrus’ dresser, coated in only a slight layer of dust. So, he snagged it on his way out the door. But, still, he’d rather get some real clothes, too. He wrapped the jacket around himself to keep himself from shivering as he made his way out the bedroom door. The small skeleton ran his hand along the wall to help steady himself along the way so that he could make it safely to his room. The trip was slower than he would’ve liked. Once inside he realized his room was an utter mess. The place was filthy. Thinking back, he wasn’t really sure when the last time he’d actually done any real laundry was. All his clothes were discarded, seemingly haphazardly, around his floor. So, he didn’t have any clean ones.

Not like he had a preference anymore.

He figured his favorite sweater had been ripped to shreds during the last fight, anyway. So, he settled for the freshest looking red T-shirt on the floor. He slipped that over his big head, but it only fell a little past his hips. So he dug around the piles until he found a decent pair of basketball shorts, too. He was fine with going commando. It was better than dirty underwear, anyway.

While attempting to slip his pants on, the little skeleton lost his footing. Balancing on one leg was a stunt beyond his capabilities at the moment. He stumbled around until he collided with the wall. He used that to prop himself up as he shimmied his pants on one leg at a time.

Then, before he put on his jacket, he shook it thoroughly. Beating away as much of the dust that he could that had clung to the leather during the time it had been left unused. It was filthy.

He wondered how long he’d even been out for.

Guess that was just proof sleeping wasn’t helping him whatsoever. If his slumber had been doing what it was _supposed_ to, he should be regaining lost magic while he slept. Clearly, that wasn’t the case if even a long slumber didn’t improve his condition. He consistently didn’t feel rested at all afterwards. It really was worthless.

He supposed it didn’t make a difference. A long nightmare or a short one; he didn’t want to deal with either. Now that he was up, he certainly wasn’t going back to bed.

He needed to distract himself to pass the time.

So, he started with his laundry. He gathered up all the dirty piles from his bedroom floor and carried them into the downstairs bathroom. The whole process took him longer than usual. Once gathered, he turned on the tub, filled it with suds, and scrubbed them each by hand. When he was done, he wrung them out and hung them in an intricately crisscrossing wire web he’d set up in the bathroom. Allowing the garments time to dry.

His jacket was among them.

Next, while he waited for the clothes to finish, he picked up the living room. Boss was a stickler for cleanliness, but the guy was such a workaholic he barely ever had the time. Sans usually did most of the chores whenever he got around to it. In his absence, it looked like the house was starting to fall behind. After organizing the misplaced objects, he checked the kitchen. He wasn’t surprised to find several dirty plates in the sink. He pulled up his stool. Then, washed them all, including the pots, putting the now spotless dishes away in the cupboards. He scrubbed the stove, too. Finishing up the kitchen by mopping the floor. He still needed to dust what little furniture they had in the living room but, by then, his clothes had dried.

So, he plucked them off the wires one by one, folded them –sloppily- and set them aside in the living room. The only one he didn’t fold was his jacket, which he put back on as soon as he was able. Next, was the dreaded task of taking all the clean clothes piles up the stairs on his sore legs. He took it slowly, carefully balancing as many clothes as he could per trip. Deciding to climb the stairs the least amount of times necessary.

So, after he’d stashed away his last set of clean clothes, he went ahead and fetched the dirty clothes from Boss’ room, too. He found them hidden away in his brother’s closet. Naturally, Boss didn’t have as many as he did, but Sans intended to wash them, anyway. He piled all of them into his arms, hoping he could make just one trip. The total pile was a bit larger than an armful. Sans struggled to open the door without his hands, kicking it closed behind him. He carefully treaded to the top of the stairs, trying to glance around the pile to see the steps. He only stepped down one stair at a time. Keenly aware of how well his balancing act had gone last time. He proceeded at a slow, cautious pace.

He was about five steps from the bottom when he heard, “What are you doing?”

Sans tried not to let the startle slip up his footing. He tore his eyes away from the floor to look for the source of the question that had cracked like a whip. Boss was standing by the front door. His intimidating silhouette framed by the doorway. He’d been so busy looking at his feet, he hadn’t noticed him come in!

Or rather, had he even heard the door at all? How long had Boss been standing there?

“We-welcome back, Boss,” He greeted. He needed to try. _One of them_ needed to try. Instead of being an irritable mess, this time he built up the nerve to offer him a weak smile from around the wad of laundry.

The dark-clad skeleton stalked over to the base of the stairs, blocking his path. “Why are you out of bed?” He demanded.

“I- uh- the chores,” Sans sputtered out. He hadn’t anticipated Boss might get mad at him for _cleaning._

Boss yanked the pile of clothes away from him, dumping them off to the side. “Never mind that,” He hissed, reaching towards Sans. The smaller flinched as Boss grabbed him by the scruff of his coat, tugging him from the fifth step. Sans hovered briefly over a narrow fall, before Boss set him lightly on the ground floor. “I ordered you to stay in bed,” the callous voice informed.

Realizing he was disrespectfully staring at his own feet, Sans peeked up at the black-clad form. The shadowy silhouette had his arms crossed, glaring down at him. His figure seemed to tower above him in comparison.

They were standing too close.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Sans shuffled awkwardly to a further distance, several steps away. Boss’ gaze seemed to follow him. His contrasting red eyes darted up and down the small skeleton’s posture for a moment. “Are you able to stand?”

“Y-yeah?” Technically, he was right now.

“I meant, how are your legs?” Boss specified.

“They’re fine,” He answered automatically.

Boss narrowed his eyes distrustfully at him, easily sensing the lie. He wasn’t going to heal in a single day. “If I tell you to stay in bed; just do it.”

“Okay, Boss,” He mumbled dejectedly. Eyes down again as he shuffled his feet uneasily. He didn’t want to go back to the bed. What was he going to do? Stare at a wall again for twenty odd ours? Yet he couldn’t exactly refuse.

Could he?

The silence stiffened while Sans made no move whatsoever to return to the room. Even though he wasn’t looking, he could feel the other’s gaze boring into him. Analyzing him. That poisonous silence felt like it dragged on forever. So, he decided to break the quiet first.

“Finish a-all yer chores, then, Boss?” he asked, mostly for the sake of dragging out the time he got to stay out of bed than any interest in actually knowing. He wasn’t really expecting any lengthy answer.

“I finished all of the appointments I could get to today at least,” The Lieutenant responded curtly. “I also picked up a few necessary items.” There was some slight shuffling that Sans didn’t look up for. Boss issued his next order, tossing something at him, “Here. Put this on.”

The object hit the smaller in the chest with a light thud. Sans barely caught it before it slipped through his grasp. Opening his palm, he peered down at the small article.

It was a thick strap of leather dyed a vivid red. There were several square studs along its length which were sharpened to a point on the outer side. The spikes were more decoration than practical, since they were neither long, nor especially sharp. The leather had been treated with an extra strip of fabric sewn into the inside of the cloth which made one side velvety soft. It had a couple perfectly circular holes pierced into it, along with a silver buckle which had an extra metallic D ring attached. However, the most note-worthy feature was opposite the buckle where a silver plate had been embedded into the leather. His name was engraved into the metal in big, bold letters. Right beneath it, there was a smaller transcript. Together it read:

 

SANS

Property of Papyrus.

 

It was a collar. A _dog_ collar.

An unsettling knot spun deep within his gut. It almost made him nauseous. The item was vulgar for all the worst reasons. Just because he’d been fucked by a dog didn’t mean he was a bitch. He wasn’t a fucking animal!

Sans frowned at it repulsively, making no move whatsoever to put it on. In fact, he was pretty much stunned stiff. Trying to figure out, under what scenario this was okay. Slowly, he clacked his jaw open enough to mutter, “Pretty distasteful, don’t’cha think?”

“Consider it your punishment for not telling me about your soul,” Papyrus levelled. Keying in on his unwillingness, once again, he repeated assertively, “Put. It. On.”

Sans’ perma-grin sunk to the lowest point it was able. He looked up at the other, actually meeting his gaze. “Why?”

It seemed a bit cruel for a joke.

Boss folded his arms authoritatively, bristling as if _offended_. Sans should be the one offended. “What did I tell you, Sans? If I give you an order, you do it. _When_ I say it. No questions. No stalling. No doing it half-assed or changing your mind half-way through.”

“…’Cause I’m a _property_?” he muttered the words like bile in his throat. He’d at least thought they’d been more than that.

 The other continued the lecture, louder, as if he hadn’t even heard him. “’Stay in bed,’ doesn’t mean get up a few hours later to do whatever you please! If I tell you, ‘go home’; I expect you to listen immediately without standing around, insisting you’ll stay. If I tell you to do something; _do it_ ,” He ordered, anger rising. Repeating, “Now, put it on.”

Sans looked back down at the collar, clasping it tighter in his gnarled hand. He had never considered himself as someone with a lot of pride. Hell, he’d done just about every shameful thing under the stalactites to get by. He stared down at the repulsive collar for some time, building up his courage.

But if he was a “property”, then he wasn’t a “brother”.

His hand went limp, dangling the collar loosely at his side. Boss was going to kill him. He fought that lump in his throat. “I ain’t puttin’ that on,” He mumbled as he tossed it back to the floor at Boss’ feet. “Pick a d-different punishment.”

He wasn’t able to lift his eyes to see Boss’ reaction. He did, however, see a glove scoop the collar up off the floor in his peripheral. The red boots took a step forward as a chilling voice reminded, “You don’t get to _pick_ a punishment, Sans.”

The boots took another few steps. Slowly advancing.

Sans took a step back for every one they advanced. But he wasn’t in any condition to run or teleport. Fuck, he could barely walk right at all. So, he stumbled backwards over his own feet until Boss had pegged him into the far wall, spine flush against the cabin. He knew Boss was pissed. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to look up at him.

He was literally stuck in a tight spot.

“ _Put it on,”_ The voice commanded, growing more and more impatient. “In case you were wondering; that _is_ an order,” He specified, shoving a fist with the collar back into his lowered vision.

Sans had been avoiding remembering things all day. He’d been doing pretty well, too. Yet just _seeing_ the collar made him upset. A _dog_ collar. Fucking hell.

How could Boss even think of this? Hadn’t he been the one who told him to forget it all? Humiliation wasn’t exactly a new concept in the guidelines of a punishment, but this one seemed unnecessary. Frankly, he wasn’t prepared to deal with this right now. His emotions were roiling inside his chest. Contempt. Anger. Shock. Fear.  …Loss.

What was he if not a “brother”?

He shoved the fist back out of his vision. “C-c-can’t we just do this another time then?” He begged desperately, trying to slip past the tight spot on the wall by squeezing through one side. He broke free, stumbling past Boss.

The taller caught him by the arm. “ _Dammit_ , Sans. Do what I _tell you to_!” He commanded, roughly spinning the little form back his way.

That was the very second he knew he was screwed. He didn’t have to _look._ He could _hear_ Boss’ infuriated, _dangerous_ snarl laced through that tone. Boss loathed it when he ran away from him.

Yet if he were still sane, Sans wouldn’t possibly consider staying in a room with Boss while he was this angry. It was self-preservation at its most basic level.

The smaller skeleton quickly twisted his hand out of the grip before the other had a chance to tighten it. Instinctively batting the arm away, he used the momentum to spin around. He booked it up the stairs, practically crawling up the steps on all fours since his legs alone weren’t fast enough.

Not that it made much difference. Honestly, his entire body was pretty useless. The whole reaction in general had been a pretty bad idea from its brilliant conception a whole two seconds ago.

Boss hated it when he ran.

Maybe he wasn’t sane, after all. Not only was he sore and injured; he’d never once outrun Boss before. Not without a shortcut. Soul pounding in his ears he realized there was no way he’d be able to–

A claw snagged his ankle before he’d gotten too far.

Eyes wide, he was ripped off the step he was going to. Yet, with a _bang_ , he managed to catch himself on the previous step. Losing the precious ground he’d already gained. The talon prevented his advance further. Sans tugged against the claw, begging to find a weakness in the hold. To his growing dread; it held firm.

“You really think you can _run from me_?!” Boss hissed, livid. His grip clamped crushingly around his ankle, kicking off a fervent beat in his soul. Sans knew he’d be fucked the second Boss decided to drag him down every, single step. Especially if he did it all at once! Scuttling along the stairs for freedom, he twisted and wrenched his leg painfully. Literally throwing all his weight against the tightening hold. Anticipating pain.

Nothing came of it. He couldn’t _escap_ e.

“Let go!” Fuck.

“Sa–“

“Let _go_!” Fuck! He was panicking. He could feel it in his chest. That quickened beat winding a dead cold through his marrow. Numbed down to the bone. Every beat laced with fear, he only knew one thing: He didn’t want to _be_ caught. That fire spurred him to move. He tried to drag himself away. Even if all he had was a shoddy hold on the steps. He couldn’t be caught! So, he kept senselessly belting out the same phrase over and over. Growing more frantic with each one. “Let go! Boss, p-please! Let go! Let go! LET GO, dammit!”

The claw only got tighter, tugging him back towards him. _Like a row of teeth dragging him back through the snow._ Horrified, he lost another step. And then another. And another. _Move,_ dammit. He couldn’t stop now, yet he couldn’t crawl away fast enough. _Useless fucking body._ Dragged until he was almost under the overbearing form. The shadow looming over him. If he stopped fighting- If he couldn’t get away; he’d end up like last–

 “GET OFF’A ME!” His eyes erupted in red flames. Sans spun back around, shooting _two_ summoned, sharpened bones point blank at his attacker.

They _both_ hit Boss.

Right below his left shoulder. Disturbingly close to his soul. They went clean through the bone lodging themselves between his clavicle and ribcage. Nothing was more sobering than the telltale _snap_ that echoed around the room.

Boss dropped his leg.

No argument nor scuffle followed. Neither of them could believe what he’d just done.

Sans’ eyes went wide, still burning –the only sound crackling through the silence, as that realization slowly dawned on him:

He’d just stabbed his little brother. He just _stabbed_ Pap.

What was he doing? What was he doing?! WHAT WAS HE DOING?! What the fuck was wrong with him? He needed to get his damn priorities straight. Papyrus was the _only_ thing that mattered. The one person he cared about in this entire shithole should be Papyrus. Not _himself._ No matter how scared he was, no matter how mad he was; Papyrus’ well-being had always come first. _Should_ always come first.

And he’d stabbed him.

Trembling, aghast, Sans backed up along the stairs. Shaking his head, he senselessly blubbered out, “Aw… P-p-Papyrus, I didn’t mean ‘ta–“

Their eyes locked.

His brother’s eyes. Piercing. Chilling. Terribly hardened crimson eyes. The kind that had seen more battles than Sans would ever know. They didn’t forgive. They weren’t the eyes of _mercy_.

Those were the eyes of a killer.

His brother’s eyes.

The fear, along with a paralyzing dread, shot straight down his spine. Draining all warmth from his bones. Run. His fight or flight reaction kicked in instantaneously. With stats like his, he was no match for a monster like that. With an almost electric surge of energy, he spun to scramble up the stairway to safety.

Boss was on him in a second. He shoved the flailing skeleton even more roughly than usual into the jagged shape of the steps. “Augh!” Pinning him down so heavily, he risked a crook in the weaker’s spine as he tried to force him still. Sans thrashed. In one quick swoop, Boss slipped the collar over his head, feeding the leather through the buckle. But he didn’t clasp it. In their hectic struggle, he quickly yanked Sans back the other way by the band. Without being fastened, the buckle slid down the leather.

The collar constricted around his neck like a noose.

With that one good tug, Boss ripped him from the steps –from freedom. He was wrenched off the stairway by his jugular. His heels painfully smashed into the ground first. His skull would have been next, but he was held, dangling, a few inches from impact by the leather strip squeezing off all his air. Choking and gagging, the little skeleton clawed at his throat, trying to slip a finger under the unforgiving leather.

Boss suddenly yanked him up higher, closer to his own towering height. _Lifting_ him by the noose. Sans literally hung from his neck, face scrunched up in pain. He didn’t need the air, but at this point he feared the ever constricting band might dislodge his skull from his shoulders! Desperately squirming and scraping at the collar, he sputtered out, “Boss sor–Boss s-sorry! I–B- _Boss_ -gh!-sss!”

“Stop struggling!” The tall skeleton _shook_ him threateningly. Hazardously jostling the knot around his neck.

Sans’ struggle was already considerably weaker. As if his strength was directly proportionate to how much air he had. Panicked, he clawed more feebly at the leather now. Strength waning.

“I said STOP STRUGGLING!” Boss bellowed, shaking him roughly again.

Sans flinched at the piercing rise in volume. Then, he fell completely still in in the hold, dangling from his neck.

He _could_ have still struggled. He could have tried to defend himself, but he gave up early. There was no point. Letting his arms and legs fall limp. He swung from his throat until he was completely motionless. Yet even then, Boss didn’t let him go. He held him up, glaring at the defiant wretch. Watching the little chest spasm under the lack of oxygen. He didn’t _need_ the air, he kept telling himself –as he did _everytime_ he was choked by Boss. Yet knowing that didn’t stop the pain as he violently shuddered out the last of his breath. Knowing it, didn’t stop the dense, empty agony that seeped through his whole frame as his faux, magical respiratory system shut down entirely.

Slowly, ever so slowly, everything came to a grinding halt. Without air, his eye sizzled out, leaving nothing but a smoky wisp wafting out of the socket.

Strangulation.

He’d never gone through the entire process before.

“We’re going to try this again,” Boss stated, disturbingly calm. “When I tell you to do something; you’re going to do it. Immediately.”

Sans jaw clacked open to answer, but he didn’t have any words.

“Nod,” Boss ordered.

Sans did. Immediately. The motion was slow and stiff, but he obeyed.

Satisfied, Boss paced with him, dragging him back towards the living room. “You are going to leave this collar on, until I tell you to take it off.”

Sans nodded. He was in so much pain it was _almost_ numbing.

Too bad it wasn’t that forgiving.

“If that’s tonight, then it stays on until tonight. If that’s months from now, then it stays on for months. No questions. Do you understand?”

That meant it was never coming off.

Sans nodded. His eyes were lifeless.

“You’re going to do exactly as I tell you to do.”

Sans nodded. His chest felt hollow.

“You’re going to do _only_ what I tell you to do. Are we clear?”

Sans nodded.

Boss stared hard at him for some time. Piercing gaze boring into the motionless form. Summing him up. Analyzing him. But there was no fight left to find.  “Prove it then.” He ordered, “Take out your soul.”

Sans wished he could swallow that lump in the back of his throat; he couldn’t. He reached a deathly stiff arm up and took out his fractured soul, shielding the delicate piece as much as he could with his own palm. His movements were stiff and unnatural.

The intimidating skeleton uncurled a claw in front of him, a slight edge to his tone, “Now hand it to me.”

He mechanically held out the soul, offering what was left of the light to the other. Boss promptly took it from him. He twitched involuntarily when he felt the claws wrap around him. Pleased, one finger rubbed favorably along the hardened shell of his soul. Extremely uncomfortable, it felt like a talon scraping up his spine.

Sans wasn’t even sure he was aware that he was doing it.

“Good boy,” Boss purred almost affectionately, setting the trained dog down on the couch who only flopped over in his lifeless state. The dark-clad skeleton climbed on top of him, slipped a single finger under the leather, and tugged it loose. The collar slipped to a more comfortable fit.

With a slight delay, his respiratory system kicked back in. Sans gasped for air beneath the overbearing form, sputtering and coughing. He didn’t even care that he was drooling out of the corner of his mouth now that he had access to fresh breaths.

While he attempted to compose himself, Boss latched the buckle on the last hole, making the collar extremely loose; but not loose enough to fit over Sans’ big head. He spun it, too, so that the buckle sat at the back of his neck. The black-clad skeleton hovered over him, holding the collar almost delicately with a finger as Sans laid breathless below him. The little skeleton panted erratically for a while, until he managed to get his breathing back under control. Taking in slower, heavy breaths, he turned to glance nervously up at the skeleton still hovering over him. Realizing, not only did he still have a hold on the collar, he could _feel_ the constricting hold on his soul as well deep in his hollow chest.

Squeezing him. Crushing him. He could feel the spike of a talon drumming along his very being somewhere out of sight.

Pleased, the looming form’s thumb rubbed along the engraved nametag slowly, tracing each word fondly. His crimson eyes were distant, lost in thought, until the piercing gaze flicked past the nametag to Sans’ hazy eyes. The little skeleton shrank beneath that intense look.

“Here’s your next order, Sans,” He was tugged a little closer by his collar as the form leaned in. “Kiss me,” He commanded.

“W-What?” Sans barely managed to stutter out with a hoarse voice. Completely taken off guard.

But Boss’ voice had been very clear.

“You heard me,” He dropped the collar in favor of slipping his arm behind Sans’ head, propping up his neck. Boss eased further down on the couch, between his legs, pinning the little form more heavily beneath him. Sans flinched when he felt the other’s hand slide up his shirt beneath his ribcage. The fist released the soul back into his chest, returning it. But the hand didn’t leave, it rested on the base of his ribcage. Claws tracing down along the rivets of the inside of his spine, drawing a shiver from the sensitive spot.

He knew Sans’ body inside and out.

Boss wasn’t a patient person. He didn’t _wait_ for Sans to comply. As the paralyzing shiver still crept along his spine, a set of teeth pressed themselves against his own. Sans bucked, startled, but the arm beneath him squeezed him even closer. Their teeth went flush. Sans shut his eyes, trying to clamp his mouth shut, too. Pressing his hands weakly against the form over him. He held it for as long as he could, but he’d gone so long without air he couldn’t hold his breath. He wasn’t capable of it. His quivering jaw gasped for air –that’s when Boss deepened the kiss. Sneaking a long tongue inside his mouth. Tracing along–

No!

Sans instinctively clamped his mouth shut, biting down. Fangs digging violently into the unwanted appendage. The taste of dust exploded in his mouth.

They froze jerkily.

Again. He’d done it _again._ Trembling, yet stiff, his jaw went a bit slack. Some of the dust from the destroyed tongue trickled out between his fangs. But that hardly got that horrible taste out of his mouth. That bitter reminder remained behind.

That was _Pap_ ’s dust.

“Fine, then. We’ll do it your way,” Boss growled against his clamped fangs in frustration, abandoning the kiss. But he didn’t pull away. He buried his skull deeper against Sans’ neck.

Avoiding him, Sans cocked his head to the side, leaning as far away as he could go. It wasn’t far enough.

But Sans was speechless. Too afraid to push or fight or struggle in any way. What if he accidentally went too far again? Despite everything, he knew he didn’t want to hurt him. Whatever monster was on top of him right now was wearing his little brother’s face! So, he fought off every urge to struggle. Stiffly, he held his hands up, out to the side, as if he were being arrested. Too conflicted about what to do about the larger form wrapped around him.

“Are you still sore?” He asked almost tenderly, the words rumbling right against his neck. As if tempting him with a familiar voice, but Sans was smart enough to hear the threat in the question. He went rigidly stiff as the talons inside drummed along his spine. “No. You’re _fine_ , right?” He mocked hatefully, mimicking that question’s usual pattern.

The claws suddenly scratched down the bone.

“Nngh!” Sans flinched, curling in on himself which pressed him further into the other’s hold.

 Boss took every little inch he could get, squeezing him tighter, trapping him further. Using a newly conjured tongue to trace a cold trail along his neck. The talon, much more roughly, explored the divots in his spine, diving greedily into the crevice between each disc. Sans hands clasped into little fists, weakly tugging against the back of Boss’ shirt as that touch snaked further and further down that sensitive area. Selfishly drawing out tremors and whimpers until the talon rested at the base of his hips. “Make something for me,” He growled against Sans’ neck, nipping at the vertebrae.

Sans jerked as the fangs dug against his throat past the collar. The metal jingled. But he didn’t go anywhere. He was stuck. There was no getting out of this. Not without doing something he’d certainly regret.

He wouldn’t dare.

Not to Pap. Not to Boss. Not to whoever was possessing his little brother’s body at this moment.

Reluctantly, he did as he was told. Trying not to panic. Too afraid to speak, he looked up and away, blinking wordlessly against that blur in his vision as he formed the parts Boss sought.

“Good boy,” He purred in his ear, tracing the line of the smaller’s hips around to the front bulge in his pants. That motion was soft. Then, suddenly, harsh. He grabbed him by the bulge. Rewarding him by twisting up the length of his dick. Tugging at the tip. Pulling him in just the way that he’d always liked. All the while, attacking his neck with new licks and bites.

Sans wasn’t very happy about either. He squeezed his eyes shut. He could pretend he was somewhere else. Anywhere else. He wanted to, but avoiding it only worked for a little while. Until Boss had built up a firm, familiar rhythm. He was no stranger to Sans’ body. They’d been together like this so many times. In no time at all, he had a tantalizingly fervent pace rocking him. The glove stroked him thoroughly, roughly drawing out any ounce of desire he had.

Except… there wasn’t any. He wasn’t even in heat. Quite the opposite.

Much like their conversations, this was pretty one-sided.

A pitiful whimper died in the back of his throat. He was going to be rubbed raw.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed the apparent dryness.

Boss pulled back, glaring down at the form under him. The little skeleton quickly turned away as far as he could. Avoiding his gaze completely, Sans didn’t meet his eyes. But the expression on his face must have said it all.

The shadow loomed in, trying to catch his eye. Cradling the smaller in his arm. But Sans refused to even look at him, keeping his eyes cast off to the side. Boss growled in frustration, “Must you make this difficult?” As if he had a choice in the matter. As if he were doing it on purpose. “Do you _want_ this to be hard?”

Sans knew better than to say anything.

Boss grunted an angry sigh. He sat up, removing his arm from beneath Sans’ head. The little skeleton fell back to the cushions. A big talon grabbed the waistband of his newly acquired pants. Sans scrambled to grab them, too, but he wasn’t fast enough. Boss ripped them off, chucking them out of the way somewhere behind him. Pantsless, Sans timidly tugged the hem of his T-shirt down over his crotch instead, trying to cover himself.

Boss didn’t care about his decency, though. He clamped one hand down around his right femur as he loomed menacingly back in. “Your leg. Lift it,” He ordered curtly with a snap.

Confused, but immediately obedient, Sans lifted his one free leg a small distance off the couch. Boss snatched it under the knee with his free arm, shoving it way higher.

“Ah!” Sans squeaked in alarm as his legs were split wide apart. Boss let go of the leg he’d been holding down, continuing to shove the captured leg forward. Sans had to forgo holding onto the hem of his shirt to try and steady himself as Boss practically folded him in half. Curling his spine into a C-shape so his pelvis was in the air. Boss situated himself under him, pressed fairly close. He leaned towards the right, blocking his other leg from rising as high as the first.

Legs split apart, Sans saw Boss tug off his glove with his teeth past his crotch. He snaked the gloveless hand between his legs, gripped onto his dick, and smooshed the thick, red, girth between his bare fingers. He pressed his thumb into the tip, undulating his fingers along the shaft. The lewd display in clear view for Sans. Putting on a show for him as he fondled the thick, ruby cock. Pushing his leg forward instead of letting him fall. Twisting him in just the right way to tease instead of hurt. Squeezing him just enough to make it forceful, but not painful.

He knew his body so damn well! They’d been together like this so many times before. More than Sans cared to admit. Boss had always gone out of his way to make sure they weren’t in contact any longer than they had to be. He’d tie him down. He’d use toys. He’d always worn gloves instead of touching him directly.

Now, something about the barebones against his flesh was unsettlingly intimate.

“hah, hah… nnh!” Upside-down, Sans panted worriedly in the strenuous position. Trying to prop his elbows under him for support. He reached a hand out to grab onto the hand planted between his legs. Busily working his shaft. Curling himself even further in this position only pushed his head against the velvety soft inside of the collar. By the time he had stretched far enough to reach the other’s wrist, there wasn’t any strength in his grip. His fingers trembled against the bone, unable to push it off. He begged, “S-s-stop!”

Boss didn’t stop. “Are you going to pretend _now_ that you don’t cry my name out when you jerk yourself off?” He scoffed, angrily. “I can hear you, you know.”

“ _No!_ That’s–“ He corkscrewed the cock roughly, causing Sans’ whole body to shiver.  “–ngh!” That was _once._ And a complete freak accident.

“Are you going to _pretend_ you haven’t cum in my hands _dozens_ of times?” Boss growled, furiously. Squeezing his short, wide member in his hand, he rubbed his thumb against the bulging tip. Rocking the head.

Sans’ mouth hung open, panting. He didn’t have an excuse for that one. The hand continued to prove that was true. The mixture of cold on his exposed bones and the heat of the hand assaulting him combined.

“Mmn!” Sans winced miserably, knowing he was falling for it. He was starting to feel it. He could _see_ his crimson member growing steadily in the large hand. As the sound of heat and a soggy squish filled his ears. Boss knew his body like the back of his own hand. The proof was right in front of his eyes.  Even if he squirmed, the firm hand beneath his knee held him still. Held him upright. The way he angled him; Boss _wanted_ him to watch. Wanted him to know he was growing erect in his hand –no matter how ashamed he was of that.

Seeing him falter, Boss smiled smugly. “And how many times have you done this yourself while Thinking. About. Me?”

Recently?

_All of them._

Boss twisted around the base of his shaft. Squeezing down, then stroking up. Sending a full shiver quaking up his whole sinful spine. His little fist trembled weakly in protest against the hand planted between his split legs as it carried out every lewd motion. As he fell for each one. As he lost to a more carnal desire.

And he hated himself for it.

“Nnh!” He whimpered, upside-down, as all the pressure began to build at his head. The touches only amplified.

“Stop fighting me,” The towering skeleton ordered resolutely. Sans’ hand fell limply off the imposing wrist. Using the now-free arm to assist his balance under the force. Boss kneaded that growing, sensitive erection intently. Forcing Sans to watch the whole way. As he was fondled. As he was rubbed. He milked his shaft intensely until precum began to dribble disgracefully out of the tip onto Sans chest during each vigorous stroke. By then, Sans was trembling under the exertion from the rather extreme position.

Boss finally set him back down on the sofa once he had a growing boner. Sans collapsed into the cushions, gasping. Dick throbbing. But he didn’t let him rest for long, if at all. Boss slipped a hand under his collar, yanked him forward into a sitting position. “On your knees,” He ordered.

Sans shakily adjusted himself on weak limbs, so that he was sitting on his knees on the couch. Much like Boss was now. Except he wasn’t nearly as tall as Boss was. Even though he didn’t rival his height whatsoever, Boss shoved his head down. Sans caught himself with his hands before his head was buried in the cushions. He glared up at him, but the flash of anger dissolved into dread.

Above him, Boss had unlaced the front of his pants, releasing his own erection before Sans’ eyes. A large, long, ruby dick. He sat back on the couch, adjusting his position so he was closer to the smaller’s height. With the hand behind Sans’ skull, he shoved the smaller skeleton’s head right between his legs. Ramming his face against the erection.

Sans immediately backed up, but Boss shoved his face back in.

“Suck it,” he growled threateningly.

Sans eyes sunk to the side, panting against the ecto-flesh right next to his fangs. A heat pulsing against his cheek. Even though he hesitated, Boss didn’t let him up. The gloved hand held his head firmly down, pressed into the erection. Waiting with more patience than Boss had ever displayed.

Sans shut his eyes miserably in surrender. This would be over a lot faster if he just listened.

Don’t think about it.

Timidly, he opened his fangs, wrapping his mouth around the side of the large shaft. Gently nibbling the heated flesh. He briefly licked the base, testing the waters.

The hand at the back of his head twitched.

He must’ve liked that. If he could finish him off quickly, they could be done with this.

So, Sans pulled himself closer on his hands and knees. He licked a wide, flat tongue along the base, twirling it up around the length as he moved up. When he got to the top, he went back down, swallowing the whole thing.

The glove behind his head tensed, claws scratching minutely against his skull.

Sucking, as instructed, he slowly drew away, sliding up the shaft. The heat throbbed in his mouth. Once he hit the top, he went back down, spinning his tongue around the girth until he’d hit about halfway –a much more comfortable amount to have in his mouth at one time. With his tongue, he pressed the cock to the top of his mouth and swallowed. Knowing the hardness of his teeth and the softness of his tongue mixed with the pull of his throat was enough to send most people over the edge.

It was, maybe, a bit too effective.

The hand suddenly jerked him in, shoving him down to the hilt. The long shaft buried itself deep into his throat, where Sans gagged on the heat. But he couldn’t pull away. The hand held him down. Pressing him greedily into his groin.

 “Don’t stop,” Boss instructed. Hips beginning to buck into his throat. “And don’t you dare bite me.”

But there wasn’t anything Sans could do from this angle. Boss had robbed all the control from him. Reducing Sans to nothing more than a warm, wet place he could stick his dick –which he did _eagerly_. Thrusting into small skull.

“Ghnn!” Sans choked on the member as it dove deeply into the back of his throat. The hand shoving him back in everytime he pulled back for air. Their back and forth erratic, with no real rhythm to be found between the struggles. Unless he wanted Pap’s dust all over his mouth again, he was forced to hold his jaw open as far as it would go just to get what little air he could past the cock rammed down his throat. He couldn’t even swallow right. The heat pulsing against the insides of his damp cheeks, the erection only grew inside his mouth.

Boss grunted in annoyance once Sans had gone still, forcing Boss to take over all the motions. As if not understanding that he couldn’t treat him and tease him like he had before without the freedom to do so. Instead, he took the stillness as some sort of boycott.

“ _Move,_ ” He commanded, seeking some input on Sans’ end. But he didn’t let up bucking into the little skull, so Sans couldn’t move either. Too busy gasping pathetically for breaths around his cock.

“Fine,” Boss growled in retaliation. The hand that wasn’t driving Sans’ skull into his groin, grabbed his pelvis, lifting the smaller’s butt into the air. “Spread your legs.”

Sans blinked frantically, trying to drown the growing panic in his breast. A mouthful of cock didn’t help. He could feel the finger itching impatiently around the crest of his tailbone. He was slow to obey. When he did finally slip his knees further apart, the waiting talon dove into his asshole.

“Nnn!” Sans whimpered in alarm into the gag.

But Boss sounded pleased as the throat rumbled around his cock. “Good boy,” He praised, “That’s it. Give into it.”

A long, bare finger pressed into the back of him. Reaching deep inside the warm, soft walls of his insides. Just when he’d gotten accustomed to the pressure, it pulled back out. Then, it pressed back in. Slow at first. But quickly gaining speed.

Then, momentum.

Then, force.

Until Boss was pressing the smaller’s hips forward each time he dove in forcefully with the middle finger. Rocking his whole body forward. Applying rhythm to the gag. Each plunge shoving his jaw down to the hilt of the shaft at the other end. Boss held the back of his head, helping steady the motion, so he never pulled his throat too far free from the cock.

The smaller bounced between the two ends. His collar jingling as mortifyingly lewd, soggy smacks filled the living room. The sound of sex in the air. Muffled cries and choked back moans among them. Any sound that gurgled up from his throat was fair game. Unable to close his mouth, salivation pooled in his jaw and dribbled off his chin. Making every sound particularly _wet_.

The finger continued, unrelenting. The bareness of the bone offering a terrifying sense of intimacy Sans wasn’t accustomed to. It pumped into him no matter how he squirmed. It didn’t stop no matter how hard clenched the back. The wider hand spread across his ass shoved him in each time it dove back in. Sliding his mouth around the heat at the other end. When the cock was the furthest inside him, so was the finger. Sometimes buried down to the knuckle.

“Ugh- _nn!_ ”

“This is your favorite spot, isn’t it?” Boss taunted, holding the bare finger far inside his ass and bending the appendage.

“Hn! Mmm! Mmn! Nn!” Sans whimpered into the mouthful of cock, gagging on the throbbing erection. Growing ever larger with every vibration. Engorged on pleasure. Most of his cries were barely audible past the gag. Blinking back tears, as the talon itched deep within him.

The hand scratched the back of his head in a fond, calming gesture. Petting the bone as a single short thrust ground into the cries in his throat. “See?” He whispered, as if just for Sans to hear, “That’s a good sound.” Instead of pumping, the finger continued to swirl around that sensitive area.

“Hnnngh! Mh!” He continued to spout a plea of quiet moans senselessly into the heat. His legs trembled, trying to keep himself up under the assault. Every whine shaking the throbbing mouthful.

He was going to cum.

Then, the finger pulled back tauntingly slowly. Grating along his walls, as his ass tried to suck it hungrily back in. It exited the anus with a wet pop. Sans found himself still clenching and flinching as if it were still inside him.

Boss tugged him back by the collar. The glowing, ruby erection slipped easily from his throat, slicked wet with his drool. Sans collapsed into his seat, nothing holding him up but the collar. Throat sore, he panted heavily. Swallowing huge gulps of air. Ruby eyes half lidded and delirious. Unable to focus. That had been too much stimulation at once.

His own shame was painfully erect between his quivering legs. Relief stolen from him too soon.

The other drank the sight in.

“This is a good look for you,” Boss cupped a hand under his chin, helping to support his head. The thumb on his gloved hand ran back and forth below his parted fangs, wiping away the stray drool. The shadow leaned in, transfixed by the smaller’s expression. His crimson eyes smoldering with a passionate emotion.

He almost closed the distance between them–

Sans flinched away, tugging himself out of the hand supporting his head. His skull drooped in the collar. Swinging slightly in the leather sling. The metal rings jingled.

Boss’ gaze went sharp. A hot flash behind the irises. He didn’t appreciate rejection. He tugged on the collar to prove his point –and threat. “You’re _mine_ now,” He snarled. Frustration laced through every word. He threw the little skeleton back onto the couch cushions.

Sans fell facedown limply where he was thrown, too tired to do much else.

A hand slammed down next his head, boxing him in as Boss leaned threateningly over the exhausted form. The little skeleton was still shivering from exertion. Barely registering he was there.

The anger didn’t follow through. The lash of rage settled back down.

While the smaller’s breath evened out, the other hand took to tracing the lower, exposed portion of his spine. The talons dipping into the spaces between the discs causing Sans to squirm. “No one else is going to touch a single bone in your body,” He mused, a dangerous edge to his voice. A threat backing every word.

He scraped his talon down to his nicked iliac crest. Then, dragged the only part of Sans he wanted back along the couch as he pulled his hips back into the air, correcting his position. The jacket and T-shirt bunched up around his head, exposing even more of his scarred bones. The hand that had been on his hip snaked down to the front.

“Nn!” Sans jumped when the hand clamped down on his soggy erection between his legs. Squeezing his shame, but also holding him in place. Holding his butt up. He felt the other hand swirl a circle around his puckered asshole, as if to tease. Then the index finger dove impatiently inside the wetness. Unable to wait through a proper temptation. Sans opened his mouth like he was going to scream, then clamped his fangs shut.

He could do that now.

Boss used the angle to reach new depths inside him. Inserting the talon over and over. Rhythmically grinding the digit within. With his arms lethargically thrown out in front of himself, Sans curled his hands into tiny fists. Trembling, he endured the finger pumping in and out of him in complete silence. Screwing his eyes shut.

“Admit you like it,” The cold voice implored.

Sans stubbornly held his fangs shut. Clenching his ass sporadically as the finger worked into him. Hunting for a good spot. His hips twitched when the spike of the talon delved too far.

“I already know you do,” Boss stated indifferently. “I want to hear it from _you_.” On the final syllable, he shoved a second finger into the hole. Thrusting two at once.

“Anh!” Sans cried, breaking his silence. Jerking his whole body in alarm. Boss held him still, squeezing his erection as the double digits assaulted him. They pumped into him fervently. The pulse of his shaft throbbed against the hand holding him up. He was sure Boss could feel it even through the glove. He curled his hands in, burying his head shamefully in his arms, but didn’t let his teeth part again.

He received no more results out of the little skeleton like that. So, Boss held his fingers inside. Scissoring the two apart, stretching the hole at the base when they spread apart. Tempting him to be louder.

“ah! N _nn_!” He whimpered quietly. A few moans rising out of the skull buried beneath the sleeves as his composure fell apart.

“This isn’t enough, is it?” Boss speculated slyly. He forced in a third finger to join the other two.

“Aughn!” Sans bucked, barely under any sense of self-control anymore. His fist pounded the cushion in surrender, scratching at the fabric beneath him. He couldn’t hold his voice back. “Ah! Naah!” He moaned as three fingers thrust into him roughly. “Nyaa-ahh!” Over and over again. The hand on his shaft rocking him back into each dive. Simultaneously pumping his ass and his erection in unison.

The friction was perfect. His treacherous hips rolled along with the motion.

He was ready to admit whatever the fuck he wanted him to.

“Bo –Ahhnn!” The thumb on his front pressed into his head as the precum dribbled out. Spilling to the sofa below.

“You want something more than just a _finger,_ don’t you?” The voice tempted, dragging Sans’ hips back into a _fourth_ finger.

“nnAUGH!” Sans screamed. Thrashing as the girth of four fingers tore into him at the same pace. “Ngh! _Hn! Ah!”_ He was trashing so much, Boss had to abandon the hand around his cock to wrap the spare arm around his trembling body. Catching his hands, he pinned them down to his sides in a strong arm. He bent over him. Leaning down heavily into the back of the smaller form to anchor him as the four fingers pounded into the back of him, rocking them both.

Sans was senselessly crying out now. “Boss-ss! Nnngh! Ah –!” The weight of the other smooshing his cheek into the cushion. Burying his cries.

But the hand didn’t stop.

“Say it,” Boss implored. “Say ‘please’. Beg me.”

“P-nnghh. P-pl- _please,_ ” He managed to gasp out between the hand thrusting into him at the back.

“Please _what_?” Boss breathed in his ear. Air hot and sticky as he pressed himself close against him. Steadying his hips every time he jutted forward.

He didn’t want to say it. He whimpered, sweat trickling down his skull. “Bos-sss-hngh! Bo-ss, no,” He begged, that full hand working into him. He could barely keep his knees under him, his legs were shaking.

“Please. _What?”_ Boss insisted, impatience working its way into his voice –and pace.

Sans shook his head, but the hand didn’t stop pressing into him with such force it rocked the small skeleton forward every time it went in. Diving into him hungrily and greedily at a fervent pace. He wiggled the four talons inside the delicate form forcing him to cry out, “AAaag _ghhnn_! Hgh! Nn!”

“Say it or I’m sticking an entire fist in,” The low voice growled in his ear. A thumb temptingly swirling around the edges of his stretched anus.

He blinked away the tears threatening to blur his vision. “Pl-Boss, ple-please,” He whimpered out in a tiny voice as they dove in again, “Please fuck me.”

“Louder.”

“Please f-fuck me!” He said it. He fucking said it. He was so ashamed. “Ple- ffuc –ngh! –me _please,_ ” He cried.

The fingers pulled out of him and this time they didn’t go back in. But Boss stayed pressed closely to him. “Good boy,” He rumbled in his ear, a pleased roughness in its depths.

His hand caught Sans’ swaying hips before they could sink. Before he could feel any relief whatsoever, Boss steadied them, raising them to the proper height. He felt the tip of the other’s pulsing heat take its place in line. Next to claim twitching hole. He pressed the head against his entrance. The hand pulled Sans’ hips back as the throbbing girth pressed forward slowly, forcing its way inside. Slowly. Taking his time. As it reached much further than the fingers. Sans fangs fell open in a silent scream.

“Just like that,” Boss said in approval, his voice thick with lust. “Just do anything I tell you to do.” Sans shook and twitched and trembled until he’d finally hit the base. Fangs agape and quivering. His ass clenched around the invading member as it pulsed inside him, spreading a burning heat.

Boss squeezed him tighter, burying himself in the back of Sans’ coat. “I’m not going to dig your fucking _pieces_ out of the snow again.” He growled, crushing the delicate form, “Do you understand?”

Sans gasped as he rocked his hips forward imposingly, diving deeper into him than he already was. He gulped in a smaller gasp of air when the hips shoved him forward yet again. By the fourth thrust, he’d resigned himself to a steady, heavy, barely-acceptable pace of breathing.

The length slipped in and out of him easily with little to no resistance. He was already wet and sticky. Already stretched from the fingers. He didn’t thrash or fight against the pounding as it sped up. As the familiar succulent smacks echoed through the room. He just gave up.

He shut his eyes. It was going to be over soon.

He was so tired, he laid almost lifelessly beneath the other’s hold. Only balancing his ass in the air for Boss. Letting his pelvis fall flush against Boss’ thrusts. But eventually he couldn’t keep that up either under his own shaking, exerted legs. When his hips quickly started to falter, Boss unwound his arms from around his torso, rising back up to his full height. With a hand on each iliac crest, he thrust vigorously into the smaller shape. Bucking their hips together.

Sans panted evenly. Clenching instinctively on each imposing strike. Twitching occasionally when he dove too far. Rocking his hips back into the heat when necessary. Mostly, he just went along with whatever motion Boss wanted.

Then, he heard that frustrated growl _again_. His eyes snapped open. Fear leapt into his throat. The sound sent a new spike a fear pounding through his chest. He supposed that apathetic sort of submission wasn’t enough to satisfy him.

Boss clenched his hips roughly, digging into the scarred bone. Forcing them still. He slid his entire cock out of the opening, then slammed it back in.

“ –Ah!” Sans jerked under the force. It hurt.

A hand shoved his head back down against the cushion, preventing him from jumping up like that again. The other large hand firmly held right above his tailbone, pushing him away as the heat pulsing against him pulled out again, exiting him completely.

Boss thrust back into the puckered hole roughly.

“Ugh!” He choked on that lump in his throat.

All the way out. All the way in.

“Ny- _gh!_ ”

Keeping the pace, he ripped the erection away from him again. Returning it twice as harshly.

“–augh!” The little form skidded forward under the thrust.

Boss dragged him back into his cock. His soaking wet hole melted around the girth. “Nnh- _hnn_.” He whined, whimpering in panic. He’d lost all semblance of self control. Completely at the other’s mercy.

Shame he didn’t seem to have any.

Intent on this new style, Boss tore freshly into him time and time again. Slamming into him. Yanking out. Grinding into the trembling hips with such force that Sans had no choice but to cry out each time as if he were being ripped new.

“AHN! Hn!”

Boss pressed his weight into him, grip tightening as he plunged back in. “ –ns.”

“ah-HH! Auh! Au-g _hn_!”

Boss finally tugged them flush again. Grinding into him a few more times. Not pulling out, but rocking their hips forcibly together. Few, slower, steady bucking motions rocked Sans’ body as the heat peaked with a searing burn. “ _Sans,_ ” The familiar voice growled, thick with lust and longing. The throbbing length twitched violently as Boss released within him. Riding him out and shoving him down into the cushions with the final vigorous thrusts. A red, sticky, unpleasant substance coated his bones from within. Overflowing out of his crammed opening and down his legs.

Sans gasped, but choked back a sob. Boss pulled out, freeing him of the pressure buried inside him. He practically melted into the sofa, relieved he didn’t have to keep his legs under him anymore. He’d been in no condition for that kind of activity. His whole body was quaking uncontrollably.

He hurt all over again.

Sans buried his head into the couch. Muffling his breath and any cries that were left. Gasping into the fabric. Trying not to think of the fluid he felt running down his femurs.

“Sans,” Boss called, voice exhausted, but still strict.

The little form flinched. Alert. Tense. Every motion suddenly halted. Fear lodging halfway up this throat.

No! No, _no_! He thought this was done already!

The little skeleton laid unmoving facedown in the cushions, paralyzed in fear. “Sans.” He called again, firmer. A large talon grabbed suddenly onto his shoulder.

“Hn!” One of the cries he’d been trying so hard to hold down escaped as he jerked instinctively away from the hand. Curling into a tight ball in the fetal positon. Trembling. He shielded his head with his arms, hiding his expression.

He didn’t answer.

He could feel the other hovering nearby. Heard his breathing, still a bit short from his final pleasure. Boss glared at Sans for a while longer, who never once moved.

“Fine. Just sleep wherever you want,” he hissed, annoyance dipped through every word. Sans listened to him leave. Listened to him storm up the steps. Listened for the telltale _crack_ as he slammed the door shut at the top of the stairs _._

Sans was alone. Sticky and cold and _finally_ alone.

Only then did he start to breath normally. Relaxing from the tensed little ball. But he still felt miserable. He blinked emptily, staring off the side of the sofa for a while as the frantic beat of his soul stilled, but it didn’t take him long to decide he didn’t want to stay on the couch. Slowly, he sat up, creaking his now doubly sore bones.

His collar jingled as he sat upright. Irritably, Sans grabbed onto it just to still the noise. He tugged the collar far off to the side, glaring down at it. Stretching it so he could see. His fingers dipped into the soft inside. Sans’ expression hardened. That inner cloth had been sewn in. Messily. Why bother putting velvet on the inside if he was going to choke him with it anyway?

His finger trembled a bit around that detestable strip of leather, ready to yank it off. As much as he wanted to, Boss had ordered him to leave it on. And, now, he was too afraid to take it off.

He couldn’t handle another punishment like that.

He abrasively let it go, allowing the collar to dangle loosely around his neck. The little form hunched over the side of the sofa, bare legs dangling down towards the floor. Shoulders falling as a growing depression weighed them down.

“Property”. Not even a brother anymore. To Boss, they didn’t even have a relationship.

Ever since he found out their stats were different, he knew his little brother would outgrow a use for him eventually. He was the one who’d taught him to be like… that. Violent. Ever since, Sans had been doing everything he could to keep up. Guard work, hunting, killing sprees, _anything_ to stay relevant so he wouldn’t fall behind. So he could stay on his level just a little while longer.

And he’d realized it was a hopeless endeavor.

He _knew_ Boss was going to snap and kill him someday. Their stats were too different. He’d _known_ one day he would, but he had stayed anyway.

Truth was; he’d never had any intention of defending himself when that day came!

And here they were. Sans had stabbed him. He’d bit him. He’d actually _tasted_ his dust. Over what? A stupid collar? The guilt was crushing him. The _guilt_ was crushing _him_.

Why was he so damn intent on living suddenly? He never cared before. There should be less of a reason now than ever. He thought he’d given up the idea long ago!

But, he just _couldn’t_ leave Papyrus alone. Even now. He knew he’d stay.

He’d _never_ abandon his little brother. He’d _never_ leave him behind.

“Little brother.”

He dropped his head into his hands. What was he doing? Waiting around for someone who was long gone? Who was he kidding?

There wasn’t a shred of him left.

“Pap” was gone.

He curled over himself, breath short, as he clutched at the pain in his chest.

“Pap” didn’t exist anymore.

But every damn time he looked at him; all he saw was his little brother!

He could still _taste_ his dust.

Shakily, he touched a hand to his fangs, but that bitter, bitter taste remained.

Maybe that’s all that was left of him.

Dust.

Sick, he practically dashed into the kitchen, tripping over his own feet. He leaned heavily on the counter as he yanked a glass from the cupboard, not caring how many others he knocked over. Spinning the faucet on, he filled the glass to the brim. Water still running, he downed the whole thing in one gulp, then spit it back out into the sink. Rinse and repeat.

Until he could pretend he couldn’t taste him in his mouth anymore.

Coughing, he shut the water off before he drowned himself. And before that idea started to sound appealing, he staggered away from the sink back into the living room. He scooped his pants off the floor, trying to slip his shaking legs in. Yet like before, he didn’t have the coordination to balance on one leg.

In fact, he was even worse off.

He keeled over, slamming hard into the floor. Fuck it. He tugged the pants on from there. When he found the strength to right himself again, he wobbled up the stairs, leaning heavily into the railing for support. But the hallway at the top didn’t have such a convenient crutch. Stumbling into the wall and then the bannister, he eventually ping-ponged himself down the hallway into his room. He was done. He had no strength. He threw himself onto the mattress. The familiar, musty bed crinkled beneath him.

Crinkled?

Remaining facedown, he reached the hand lifelessly dangling over the side under the edge of his mattress. Rustling all the crinkling contents beneath him. He grabbed onto one, tugging it free from the combined weight of him and the bed. He barely turned his head to look at it. He had pulled out a flattened cinnamon bunny, the kind they sold at the local inn, still wrapped in plastic. Other than being smashed, it looked rather fresh.

In black ink, there was a message scrawled across the wrapper in sloppy handwriting:

 

Stay hoppy! : )

 

He blinked at it.

He’d forgotten about those. Leftovers from the kid’s visit. He rolled over onto his back, holding the treat up above his face to catch the sole light from the window. Looking at it, he felt a compulsory demand to refuel all that spent magic he’d just wasted. He might as well do that now. So, even though it’d been smashed to the wrapper, Sans had no reservations whatsoever about eating it.

Apathetically, he tore the package open, sinking his fangs into the soft, brown treat.

He winced.

  _Sweet._ He was more of a sour guy himself.

Only a mouthful into the sweet, he already felt some emotion well up in the back of his throat that made it hard to swallow. Slowly, he began to chew, swallowing that lump down his throat. The realization of how hungry he really was settled in. Hell, when was the last time he’d even _eaten_? The treat was instantly more appealing. He took a larger bite, then a larger one. He greedily, almost animalistically, tore into the rest of sweet, finishing off the bun in a few short bites. Sinking as low as to lick the wrapper.

It wasn’t enough. He pulled out another. It, too, had messy handwriting scrawled across the plastic in black ink.

 

Be _hop_ timistic.

 

Drained, he curled on the bed, cradling the package as a smile tugged the corner of his sullen grin. Dumb kid. No, actually, that was pretty good vocabulary for someone so small, wasn’t it?

Had they written on all of these? He had shoved them under the bed so fast, he hadn’t noticed. He pulled out a couple more cinnamon bunnies.

 

Break seal _fur_ goodies.

_Ears_ some food.

It’s yummy, dummy.

 

Dummy? That last one wasn’t even a joke! Was the brat trying to make fun of him again? Yet he broke a weak grin anyway, throwing a sleeve across his sockets. Somehow, it hurt to smile. What stupid puns. What a stupid kid.

He peeked under his arm. The words on the plastic stared back at him.

Nice try, kiddo, but those puns were _tear-_ ible.

Ripping the writing clean in half, he popped the next package open. He ate them all ravenously. Downing five in total. Which put a pretty good dent in the stash of treats hidden under his bed. He’d nearly halved his supply. He ended up feeling sick for devouring so many sweet things at once. Stuffed, he let himself wallow on his mattress as he digested.

Admittedly, even then, in the darkness and lone spaces of his bedroom; he felt a bit better after restoring some of his lost magic. And by “better” he meant his hands had stopped shaking. Hardly feeling up to moving, he ended up staying there for the night.

But he refused to sleep. For hours and hours he didn’t shut his eyes. He didn’t move.

One nightmare was far too many for a single day.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter:  
> Sans is no longer stable.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
> 
>  
> 
> *continues to fall*
> 
> Oh! What is that I see? Is that the bottom coming up?!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHANGELOG: Minor updates to Chapter 14  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> Mandatory Recap:  
> What a wonderful present we got!  
> Thanks, bro!  
> *sets it on fire*  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
> 
> Hello! Please make sure you finished reading the COMPLETED Chapter 14 (Not the preview) before you start Chapter 15. Thanks~

 

 

 

 

Sans had stopped sleeping altogether. Too fearful of what that next nightmare might hold, he spent every hour awake. Not caring what sort of wear that drag might have on his mind. Rather… maybe he wanted it to ruin his mind. He _hoped_ the toll would shrivel what was left of his thoughts. Of his memories. Get rid of it all. He wanted to forget. He didn’t want to think anymore. So, he _didn’t_ think.

He listened.

From then on, he was at Boss’ beck and call. He did what he said immediately. Without any questions. Without any hesitation. Everything Boss said was absolute. Anything he commanded was law. He simply lived his days going from command to command. He didn’t _need_ to think anymore. All he needed to know was what Boss told him to do next.

Over the next several days, his orders went as followed:

 

“Come here.”

 

 

 “Lay down.”

 

 

 

 

“Stay.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Good boy.”

 

He was kept inside. Fed at regular intervals or when Boss deemed necessary. Occasionally, he’d be ordered to cook dinner. Or clean the house. These were the best distractions he had in his day, other than the mind-numbingly long periods of nothing which left him with his own thoughts.

He got _painfully_ good at not thinking about anything.

He kept his mind blank. Empty. And he only ever did _exactly_ as he was told.

His orders were mostly limited to those simple commands that kept him inside the house. Permanently. In fact, he never left the house anymore. Sans spent most of his time waiting for Boss to get back home from whatever he went off to do that day. He wasted hours staring at his own sneakers.

When the Lieutenant was home, he usually returned in a bad mood. He limited him to things that kept him out of the way or off his feet as often as possible. Boss had other orders for him, ones that required more use of his knees than his feet. Later, he’d gotten him in his room when he refused to leave. His seclusion lasted about a day. After work, Boss kicked in the door, sat on the bed, pulled out an erection, and ordered him to “eat”. Later, he’d been given real food for being a _good boy_. The time after that it was in the hallway. Right on the floor. Something about how he shouldn’t be standing. So, he’d steered him to the floor with a hand at his crotch. He’d actually gotten Sans off that second time, which was apparently considered a success, even though he’d been so afraid it would escalate into something more he’d started begging halfway through.

Don’t think about it. This is why he wasn’t thinking about it.

Sometimes he’d just order Sans to sit or lay down on the couch or bed next to him. According to Boss, it was because he was being kept in a state of “recovery”. But Sans wasn’t fooled.

He wasn’t getting any better.

One day dragged into two dragged into four. No matter how many days blurred together, he never _stopped_ being sore. He never recovered. He never improved. Nothing changed. Standing for long periods of time remained difficult. He couldn’t put any significant amount of strength into his limbs. Even when he needed to. Occasionally, even breathing got difficult.

He was weak. _Real_ weak.

And he’d given up.

 

Emptily, he stared down at his feet like so many other days, slumped against the corner of his musty mattress. He’d slipped off the edge of comfort some time ago in favor of the floor’s hardened discomfort. It kept him awake. He didn’t want to dream anymore.

Lethargically, he tilted his vision down. The room was dim, with only the light from the fogged window creeping through, but he could make out the empty, white palms upturned in his lap. He nervously tested the fingers, bending and curling them slowly into fists. They worked. Guess they just _felt_ like they shouldn’t function.

Part of him wished they wouldn’t. Part of him wanted to _stop._ Entirely. A _larg_ e part of him wanted to stop, but he just… kept going.

Why was that?

Unconsciously, Sans itched at the bone. Prying at it until a shard broke free. He held the chip up between his vision. It stayed. He frowned at it. That wasn’t how it was supposed to work. Sans was a fragile monster. Normally, the chips crumbled away seconds from his arm. He looked back to the fresh nick where small dots of red bloomed from the crevice.

He twirled the chip between his fingers absently as he inspected the strange liquid. A small substance of thick, opaque red swelled up from his arm in small droplets above his knuckle.

He ran his good hand over the gnarled, uneven texture of his ruined hand. Dragging the sleeve back to get at the teeth marks punctured into his forearm. Then, he dug his fingers into his ulna again. Deeper. Harder. Scratching at the tissue. Picking at the roughed, irregular shapes. Everywhere bone broke free; red trails followed.

But nothing happened. The shards didn’t vanish away into dust. _He_ didn’t vanish away into dust. He remained behind.

What did he have to do to make it stop already? Dust already! _Dust._ He’d given up!

Hadn’t he?

…

He’d _never_ leave his little brother behind in this hellhole, but… but he _could_ leave behind a trained, hardened, veteran soldier who could make it on his own, couldn’t he? Boss would be fine with or without him. Pap would have never made it, but _Boss_ would be ok. Boss would survive.

Boss didn’t need him.

He scratched more. Even harder, using whatever strength he could force into the assault. Enjoying the faint _cracks_ and _snaps_ and sounds of grating bone as trails of crimson spilled down the edge of his ulna. It wasn’t hard to dislodge chips from the already uneven surface. He liked the way his vision started to flicker after a while.

It was promising.

After everything else, it was almost relaxing. Absently, he dug deeper, clawing at the grooves in his arm. Relishing each splitting crack as he grated his red-stained fingers across the bone. Snapping away whatever chips he could as he splintered his forearm. Each time, his vision took a steady dive into darkness.

The image of his fingers clawing into his arm.

_Skkh!_

Darkness. Stains of red faded back in.

_Skkh!_

Darkness again. He lolled his head to the side, sinking into his collar, as his room faded back in. He grit is fangs. Harder.

_Skkkht!_

Darkness once more. He slumped a bit more against the bed. The far corners of his room faded back in again. Yet, this time, in the furthest, darkest corner; a _person_ stood there. He caught the figure’s tall, thin silhouette standing just on the edge of his peripheral. Black-clad with a flash of white hands.

He jumped. Practically spasmed off the floor onto his feet. He stood, spinning urgently towards the far wall. Eyelights sputtering in and out in static pulses. He hadn’t heard Boss come in!

Panting, he let the dimming lights of his vision flicker back in, the hint of a shadowy figure occasionally strobing across his sight. But–

No one was there.

By the time he looked at it directly –with solid vision; he was gone. Sans furrowed his brow. Tense, he glowered suspiciously at the empty corner. Gone? No. No, he could’ve sworn Boss was standing there, stiff as a board, just seconds ago.

“SANS!” A voice pitched behind him as the door to his bedroom banged noisily open. “Did you hear me calling you or _not_?” The familiar voice scolded, suggesting the latter was impossible.

Jerkily, he spun back the other way at the call of his name, the collar jingling around his neck. Frozen he stared up at the black-clad skeleton in the doorway with big eyes. If Boss was over here now, he couldn’t possibly have been over there.

S-sleep deprivation? Had he finally hit the point where he was starting to hallucinate? Certainly, recently, he felt like he’d seen _something_ hovering just out of his vision, but he’d never made it out so clearly before to be a _person._

He itched his arm anxiously. _Skkh. Snap._

 Boss’ face crumpled into a tight, disappointed grimace. Crimson eyes fixed a bit lower than Sans’ face. His chilling voice lashed, “What are you doing?”

Sans’ eyes darted from the intimidating skeleton down to his hands. One arm still in the other. Apparently, he’d still been nervously, unconsciously, picking at the splinters in his arm. He hadn’t realized it himself, let alone realized Boss might notice.

“ _Weakling_ ,” he hissed as he stormed into the room. He snatched the stained bone safely away from Sans’ grasp into his own taloned glove.

Sans flinched, startled at the sudden, harsh contact as his hand was twisted above his head. He had actually pressed down so hard himself that he’d nearly shattered the fragile bone. The fingers on that hand twitched in an unorthodox sort of way and not because Boss was squeezing it so hard. Cracks scattered away from the place where he’d dug his fingers too deeply into own ulna. Red trickled out of those fractures like a forgotten faucet, seeping past Boss’ glove.

Sans barely heard him cuss. He’d already fallen to his weak knees. Unable to keep himself upright with his damaged health. It stung. Normally, it would kill him. This _should_ be enough to kill him. But not now. Now he was just broken.

_Damn._ It hadn’t worked the last time he’d tried it either.

He felt his mind drift in a fog as his vision scattered away a few more times while his eyes strobed in and out of existence like static. The floorboards got closer as he sagged forward limply, but the strong hand still buried in his arm held him upright.

Boss hadn’t let go.

He was still gripping his fractured ulna. Holding the bone together. Holding him together.

“Sans!” The familiar voice called sternly. The sound snapped him back from the edge of sleep –or maybe, _finally_ , the jaws of death? Whichever, his piercing voice cut like a knife through the haze in his mind. Grounding him.

He forced two heavy sockets to look up at Boss.

His brother’s face was steeled in a tight grimace. Two piercing, ruby eyes fixed on him. The soft glow catching the gashes across one socket in just the right way to make the scar pop. How he hated that fucking mark on Papyrus’ skull! Yet it’s his usual face. His usual cool demeanor. His usual disappointment. Except his brow is knitted up in a hint of… worry? Concern?

…Fear?

It’s small, but it’s there.

He met his stern eyes with a fluctuating intensity as his own eyelights had yet to properly settle. Giving sporadically like they might be going out any second.

As if he had a choice about whether or not he dusted here, Boss’ next words came as a low, threatening demand, “Don’t. You. _Dare._ ”

The words were spoken as a threat, but they struck a chord somewhere deep in Sans. Boss wasn’t letting go. He wasn’t ready to let him go.

It had been so long since he felt like Boss might genuinely care for him beyond some familial duty. That his life might actually matter to him in some capacity. How could he just die and leave him alone? He’d promised, didn’t he? Maybe, a much younger version, but he’d told him he’d never abandon him. Many, many times he’d told him that.

Sans averted his gaze, glancing disgracefully off to the side. Caught quite literally red-handed, he suddenly regretting what he’d been doing.

The room went dark as his eyes strobed out.

“Stay awake!” Boss yanked him the other way, dragging him across the room to his closet. Frail, he was easily pulled along. The intimidating skeleton swung the door open with a deafening bang, then started rummaging in the piles of clean clothes stacked in his closet floor. “Where did you put it?” He hissed, holding Sans up solely by his arm as he tossed garment after garment out onto the floor. Finally, buried under all the laundry, he found what he was looking for.

The first-aid kit.

He dragged Sans back over to the bed, dropping both him and the kit roughly onto the mattress. Then, Boss knelt before him. The taller spun the bone to get a better look at the splintered ulna, inspecting his arm. It was a mess. The cracks had shattered a good distance through his arm. Misaligned, it was no longer properly connected to the magic that controlled his body. The lower portion of his hand flopped in an unnatural manner.

Sans winced.

“Damn you,” Boss snarled loudly. “Were you trying to snap it off?!”

Sans winced again. This time with shame. He had been trying for something much, _much_ worse than simply that. He was pretty sure Boss knew it too.

Boss clicked his tongue, throwing open the kit as he dug for supplies with his free arm. He pulled out some tape, stretching it with his teeth as he tightly held the bone together with his other hand. “What the fuck were you thinking?” He scolded as he wound the tape tightly around the splintered bone with all his strength. Spinning it over the injury and forcing the bone back together. When it was secured, he impatiently demanded, “Well?”

It took Sans a second to realize he wanted an actual answer.

“C-c-Curious?”

For someone who so often hunted down the truth, he seemed pretty complacent to let that obvious lie slide. Not looking at him, Boss frowned even harder, gaze fixed on the broken bone. Sans felt him squeeze his arm a little tighter before going back to work.

“Were you trying to test your goddamn limits?! _Don’t,_ ” He ordered, keeping a firm grip as he finished up with the tape. He, then, fished around in the kit, grabbing some gauze for the extra spill of strange liquid. “I can tell you now you don’t have any to test, _weakling_. You’ve got one health. So, don’t press it. If I see red one more time, I’ll _personally_ help you test your fucking limits.”

“Got it, B-boss.” Sans muttered, voice muted and small. He managed to settle the trembling in his arm so it only shook a little, even though Boss was directly touching him.

In a sour mood, The Lieutenant didn’t seem pleased with that. He grabbed him roughly by the cheeks, squeezing. “Where else?” He demanded.

“N-nowhere.”

Boss grimaced. He didn’t trust him and Sans could hardly blame him for that. He repeated, “Did you scratch anywhere else?”

“No.”

“Did you _break_ anything else?” He specified looming closer, squeezing his skull threateningly.

“N-no.”

Boss let his skull go. “Good,” He muttered, finishing winding a constricting, yet sparse, layer of gauze around his ulna. Bandaging complete, he ran a hand over the injury, skimming the fragile bone. Even bandaged, it still looked like a mess. His expression twitched, irritably adding louder, “Don’t you _ever_ do this again!”

Sans frowned. Once again, regretting it. Or, maybe, he just regretting being caught. The line was getting blurred. He hadn’t known Boss was still capable of making faces like that one earlier. What did that mean for him? Should he bother sticking around…?

If there was even a fraction of his little brother in there –Even the tiniest bit; he couldn’t bring himself to abandon him. Slowly, he nodded.

“How’s it feel?”

The tape and gauze fastened around his ulna were squeezing the bone together. Constricting his arm in more than what he’d consider just a _snug_ fit. He looked down at his lap, bending and testing his hands. Other than a sharp sting in his forearm, they functioned. But Boss liked straightforward answers. So, “It’s tight.”

“It’ll have to do. Think you can stand?”

His brow furrowed. Maybe? He nodded.

Boss regarded him for a mere second. Then, stood up hands on hips. “I said; do you think you can stand?” He repeated loudly, militantly. Beckoning a verbal response.

With a flinch, Sans snapped out of his brooding thoughts.  “Y-yes, Boss!”

“Alright then, come with me. We’ve got an appointment today,” He ordered turning away, his voice all business again.

Out? They were going _out_? “Where t-to, Boss?”

“Undyne’s,” Boss curtly answered, waiting for him by the doorway.

Sans sluggishly pushed himself up from the bed. Keeping his eyes down as he walked over towards the other waiting by the door. Undyne’s? He wasn’t sure if he could take them that far. He didn’t _actually_ feel better. Bandages didn’t work. His condition only ever progressed in one direction. Down. Worse. He was mostly still sore. His brow knitted in worry.

As if reading his mind, Boss corrected, “We’re walking.”

That made Sans’ brow wrinkle further. Then why bother taking him? He’d just slow him down, wouldn’t he?

The taller stepped forward, impatiently grabbing the trailing skeleton by his coat. Sans cringed, tensing every joint as he was hauled from the ground by the hood of his coat. Boss cleared the flight of stairs so quickly his cape swished out behind him. Then, dropped the smaller back on the floor. “Don’t make me carry you,” He snapped, stalking towards the door, “Keep up.”

Sans nervously fell in line behind him. Feet tripping over himself to keep up. Trailing him out the front door and into the snowy streets. Blindly following at first, but slowly realizing the implications of that order. Plowing through the snow, they were now _outside._ On the streets. In public. Where people could _see_ him.

 And he was still wearing the collar.

He’d gradually grown accustomed to the strip of leather over days in the house. How it jingled. How it felt. But suddenly, he was a lot less comfortable to have it displayed so openly.

The first passerby shot him a curious glance, eyes cold and judgmental. Sans quickened his pace even on his sore legs, closely tracing Boss’ every step. Hiding behind the larger form as much as he could. Their footsteps crunched along at a painfully tedious pace. His stride was just as fast as it always was. Sans fought to keep up with the long gait, but, even then, he felt it wasn’t enough. Every second they were outside, he just wished he’d walk _faster_.

He didn’t want to be here. There were never many people out on the streets, but this was still the main road through the cavern. It was bound to have more people if they kept walking down it.

Boss plowed ahead, Sans chasing him with every crunch of snow.

The second group lazing along the pathway stopped chattering when the two of them walked by. Every single eye trailing Sans as he passed. Even with a glance, he was pretty sure he recognized all those faces at some point from the bar. All the usual patrons were probably out and about while the new establishment was under construction. Which meant lots of people he might _know_. Self-conscious, his hand flew up to the collar, trying to still the telltale jingle as the leather danced loosely around his neck. He wasn’t sure it helped. Why did it have to be such a vibrant red?

He kept his eyes down as he followed the boots in front of him. Letting their matching red vibrancy lead him through the snow like a beacon.

He was sure they passed others on their way through the cavern. He could feel their stares boring into the back of his head. Boss tended to turn heads wherever he went. Maybe, with luck, no one was actually looking at him specifically. Maybe all the eyes he felt following him were just in his head. But if they weren’t…

He sunk his skull deeper into the collar, two little hands clutched into the leather attempting to conceal it. An uncomfortable blush working its way across his cheeks as he ducked his head into the velvet. He’d been seeking the warmth of his coat; not the collar! He wondered if he could bury the unbearable band beneath the rim of his furred coat somehow. He certainly tried.

But as long as it was on his neck, it was on display for _anyone_ to see. Even though it felt like such a private matter to Sans. He didn’t want his personal relationship broadcast to just anyone. To everyone. What happened between Boss and him shouldn’t be advertised to every damn person who walked by! It felt vulnerable. _He_ felt vulnerable. The people close to him were supposed to be a hand of cards he could carefully guard. Not carved into metal around his fucking neck!

He should be able to lie about how close they were. Or how close they weren’t. _Obviously_ he was either close enough or weak enough to let Papyrus put a goddamn collar around his throat!

Neither a good thing to prove.

Feeling defenseless like this didn’t sit well with him. After all, he’d spent years pretending he had more defenses than he actually had. His whole life was a careful fabrication that kept people guessing whether he was strong enough to dust them or not. It was the only thing that had kept him alive this long. This single, red band ruined all of that. He might as well be trailing a banner that said, ‘I lied. Easy prey.’

The uneasiness of every prying eye they passed only made him want to stick closer to Boss’ heel, but doing so only made him feel even more embarrassed. Because then, it was obvious who the collar belonged to. Who _he_ belonged to.

By the time they’d finally trekked the long path to Undyne’s, Sans was not only tired, but clearly mortified. Crimson and clutching onto the collar nervously with both fists. He was hovering so closely behind the other, he almost walked into the long legs when they stopped abruptly.

The smaller skeleton stumbled briefly to regain his shoddy balance on sore feet. Glancing past the long legs at a fish-shaped house nestled between the wet cavern walls. Like the Captain herself, even the face of doors and windows looked intimidating. The entire building was glaring down at them.

They’d arrived.

Boss turned to regard him before they went inside. One brow raised quizzically, he peered down at the little form pressed closely to his legs. Sans met his gaze, eyes huge, for a split-second. Then, quickly, _abruptly_ , looked away as if correcting his gaze. Looking anywhere else. Realizing how closely he’d been sticking to his heel, he awkwardly stepped back. Correcting his position as well. Attempting to put more of a proper distance between them.

Yet the towering form followed his retreat, closing in for every step he took back until the smaller finally took the hint and froze still. Boss dropped to a knee before him. Jumpy. Sans flinched, soul pounding as he expected retaliation for ‘running’. He felt the gloved talons brush against his bare fists as they gripped onto the leather past his hands. As if it were acid, he let go of the collar immediately. Boss spun the red band until the nametag sat front and center.

“Just do whatever I tell you to and you’ll be fine,” Boss stated, staring at him intently. Sans kept his eyes cast down to the side even though he could feel that piercing gaze boring into him. An anxious feeling welling up inside him as Boss’ finger traced the nametag. Then, he pinched his chin, raising his head. “Do _only_ what I tell you to,” He stressed.

“Y-yes, Boss,” Sans answered, eyes thrown to the side.

Boss held his head up for a few seconds longer, then let go of his chin. Allowing his head to drop back. Sans pulled away quickly, never once meeting him in the eye. The Lieutenant stood up, approaching the door. He knocked.

“Door’s open!” A woman’s voice bellowed from the other side.

Boss swung the door open confidently, stepping inside first. Poised and regal. Sans followed close behind him. Awkwardly. He peeked past the black leather pants leg into Undyne’s living room. The Captain was seated at her too-short table. But she wasn’t alone. She had guests.

The entire pack –or what was left of it, sat around her.

Sans’ breath caught. A room full of people who wanted him dead and he’d broken a sweat just _walking_ here. His soul stiffened, freezing his bones solid in the doorway. Obeying a deeply ingrained gut instinct which told him not to go inside.

All eyes turned to look at them as they walked in.

“You’re late!” The Captain bellowed.

“Why are they here?!” Dogaressa shrieked offended, standing up from the table in outrage. She clearly had no idea they’d apparently had an appointment here as well. At the same time. At the same place.

“That’s right!!” Undyne said in a commanding voice as if unveiling some master plan. She stood as well, taking her trusty spear with her. Announcing, “I’m putting all you _assholes_ in a room together to talk this through and solve it. The first one who physically lashes out at the other party gets dusted by _me.”_ She growled, pointing the spear around to each member in the room. _“_ If we don’t come to an agreement, you’ll all be kicked out of the guard as unfit candidates. Then, you can enjoy being hunted by the King as defectors.”

She wasn’t wrong. Royal Guards didn’t just quit. They were seen as either knowing too much about the Underground’s inner defenses or suspected of being unloyal, so the King often –as in always- ordered them killed.

The King didn’t tolerate unloyal subjects.

“So, let’s begin,” Her sharp eyes glared past Boss at the little skeleton hovering in the doorway. She folded her arms. “Papyrus? Do you have something to start with?” She asked annoyed.

The Lieutenant stepped forward, straightening his posture. “Sans, come here,” He ordered curtly.

Sans obeyed. He stepped away from the door, allowing it to close behind him. Shutting himself inside. In the room’s absolute silence, he timidly made his way to Boss’ side. Only a few faint jingles betraying the quiet.

Clearly not fast enough for the other. The second he stepped into range of Boss’ arms, a gloved talon dug into his shoulder, dragging him in front of the room full of people. He shoved his shoulder, dropping Sans’ head down and forward, while, roughly jerking his collar up in the opposite direction. Pulling the leather buried in his coat up for _everyone_ to see.

Sans winced, grabbing onto the other end of the leather as the collar dug up into his throat, forcing his head back. Exposing his throat to a roomful of enemies. He stumbled back into Boss’ legs. The tight hold pressing him closely against the other.

“ _This_ is mine now,” Boss announced firmly. Holding Sans still in the pose by his head with his other hand. A talon drumming along his skull. “By you mongrel’s own rules; I’ve claimed it. So this order should be much easier for you mutts to understand,” Boss leveled, poisonous acid dripping through every word. “Touch my things again and die.”

On display for everyone to see, Sans’ soul was throbbing wildly. His legs were trembling. His breath was short. He tried to swallow his nerves, but the collar cut into his throat. If he had been simply mortified walking here, the utter humiliation he felt now was devastating. Showing the collar to people he not only recognized, but _knew_ so well. Being called “this” and “it” in front of peers he’d once worked with. Being manhandled like some docile beast in front of enemies he’d once fought. All of it undermined by this single strip of leather Boss had forced on him. His eyes fell away from the room openly gawking at him. Unable to look any of them in the eye.

It took all his willpower _not_ to make a face fitting of that embarrassment. Face drawn into a tight, blank frown. He tried to recall what sort of expression he usually showed to other people. He couldn’t remember, but he knew it certainly wasn’t anything he’d shown Boss over the past couple of days.

“ _Damn you…_ ,” Dogaressa snarled with barely contained rage.

“That’s dirty!!!” Doggo barked.

Lesser yipped in outrage, too.

“It doesn’t work like that…!” Dogaressa seethed, barreling a warpath straight at him.

Sans struggled briefly. Paranoia high as he tried to get ready for the impending fury she was going to unleash upon him. But Boss wrestled Sans still in front of him as she stormed up to them, getting right up in Boss’ face. Even though she was so close, even though his head was still tilted back, neck exposed, she didn’t lay a paw on Sans. “It’s not some safe card you can just pull out whenever it’s _convenient_ to you!”

“This shouldn’t be coming as a surprise to you,” Captain Undyne interjected rather calmly from the back of the room. Yet her gaze seemed to be scorning the little skeleton. “I’m sure you all saw Sans’ health when you fought.”

“I also saw his health _not_ deplete,” Dogaressa growled. “What’s the problem?”

“That’s not your concern,” Boss leveled icily.

“The point is,” Undyne reluctantly mediated, “Now that you’ve all seen the Runt’s health, it should be obvious why he hasn’t been able to receive a guardsman’s punishment: _He’s weak_!” She stated bluntly. Disgustedly. “Which is why Papyrus will be stepping in as the owner.”

Dogaressa fumed, snout scrunched up in the most aggressive manner. “A collar…” She noted, looking down at the smaller skeleton pressed into the taller legs with complete disdain, “That’s quite the stench you’ve got on you now, _Runt_ …”

His stone-straight expression faltered, twitching. It wasn’t just his nerves. He wasn’t being self-conscious anymore. It wasn’t his imagination. She could _smell_ it.

 “…Cozied up to your new owner already?”

She knew. He tried to swallow the shame down, but the collar lodged that lump in his throat, too. He dug his gnarled fist into the leather, but had no luck freeing the wad of emotion stuck in his windpipe. He found himself blinking rapidly. They probably _all_ knew.

How much did he reek of Boss right now?

“Keep that feral pet of yours on a leash next time!!!” Doggo hissed. “Or we’ll have to put him down, yeah?”

“Maybe I should put _you_ down,” The Lieutenant spat coldly.

“Touch him and I’ll tear out every bone in your body,” Dogaressa threatened, quick to protect her own. The most savage growl rumbled behind her every word.

“Glad to see we’re off to a great start,” Undyne chimed in flippantly from the back of the room. She looked rather unamused. “Well, not that it’s not going about as well as I would expect,” She shrugged, stretching nonchalantly. Working out the stressful kink in her neck. Then, took a more authoritative pose, dominating the atmosphere in the room.

“All of you, LISTEN UP! I’m not tolerating any more of this vigilante shit! We’re here to discuss punishments –official punishments- to be dealt out for this whole affair, so we can all move on for good. That’s why this…,” She waved her hand towards Sans searching for the word, “ _unfortunate timing_ had to be brought up to begin with. This isn’t some last minute plan thrown together. I’ve talked with Papyrus extensively about putting this in order. He’s prepared to follow all the proper customs through…,” The Captain explained, her voice sort of driveled off into complete irate boredom. Mumbling as if she’d forgotten the rest of her speech, “And all of that.”

 She slammed her hands on the counter, “LOOK! JUST TAKE YOUR FUCKING SEATS SO WE CAN GET STARTED!” She bellowed, voice practically shaking the rafters. “I don’t have all day to deal with your piss poor behavioral problems! All of you: DOWN!”

No one disobeyed the Captain. Not an angry pack of dogs. Not even Boss. Snarling, Dogaressa spun and took her seat back at the table. Joining the other dogs. The tension in his collar fell slack as it was released. Boss stalked over to the further side closer to the wall, leading a shaken Sans.

“You stand,” Boss ordered, steering the little skeleton towards the wall with a glove on the back of his neck. Barring him from the table, before he could even sit down with the others.

He wasn’t a guard. He wasn’t a person. He wasn’t included.

Boss took a seat at the table opposite from Dogaressa. Sans, on sore legs, awkwardly slouched against the wall behind him, hands in his pockets. He sulked along with his indignity. Sullenly staring down at his worn sneakers. Listening with his ears and not his eyes. Trying to be as small and unnoticeable as possible.

“Let’s make this clear. I’m not here to listen to your complaints,” Undyne corrected. “YOU FUCKED UP!” She boomed, shoving a finger at Dogaressa. “AND YOU FUCKED UP!” She bellowed, pointing a finger in Papyrus’ face who crossed his arms insolently. “And now there’s a string of dusted monsters because of it. I’m not here for your bitching! I’m here for reports! I want facts. _Then,_ we can sort this all out.”

No one said anything, but the air was positively tense with hatred.

“Let’s start from the top: The missing souls.”

Sans tensed. Attentive even if his eyes weren’t.

Great. Now he knew why Boss had stalled outside the door –and brought him along. Now all his words were starting to fit together. This was dangerous. _This,_ right here, was a setup. The Captain had never been fond of him. And with all the dogs’ “evidence” against him; he wasn’t likely to be leaving here alive.

He listened to his own hearing in silence.

“We’ve found a string of motionless monsters who all had their souls missing. After some time, every single one of them has fallen to dust. Which has made the more frequent number of dust piles we’ve found throughout the Underground even more concerning,” Undyne recapped with barely contained boredom, glancing down at some papers in front of her occasionally as she spoke. She was never one for paperwork or beating around the bush or making anything more complicated than it had to be. She was probably ready to just dust Sans directly now. Everything else was trite. This formal affair was all so tedious and very unlike her usual style.

This was all just some show to appease the Lieutenant.

“Your _murderer_ is standing in the room with us… unharmed and undetained,” Dogaressa noted dryly, shooting daggers at Sans with her hateful dark eyes.

“Yes, you’ve said it was the Runt,” Undyne noted, “Yet in the time he’d been unconscious in bed for a couple of days, we found another body in Waterfall.”

He didn’t let that news tempt him. It didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. Sans just stared at his shoes. This was pointless. He’d never believed in relying on investigations. Or trials. There was too much doubt. Realistically, you couldn’t prove Sans had or hadn’t done it.

“And two more since he’s woken up… They don’t fall apart immediately!” Dogaressa snapped defensively. “You don’t know how long it had been there! He could have easily killed them before we got to him that day!”

Exactly. Sound logic.

“Clearly, instead of taking this matter seriously and finding the real killer, _you_ were out on some petty rage-kill after my brother,” Boss hissed.

Also, true.

Dogaressa slammed the table, infuriated. “EVERY _single_ body smelled like him! That is not a coincidence! He’s your murderer.”

“By the evidence so far, it should be Sans. Yet we’ve gotten a different report,” Undyne corrected.

They…

Sans’ soul skipped a beat. Timidly, he glanced up at the table. They had…?

“Oh?” Boss asked, interest piqued.

“Go ahead,” The Captain motioned in an uninterested gesture, “Doggo, repeat what you said before the others got here.”

Dogaressa rolled her eyes in annoyance, like she couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Uh,” Doggo stiffened, looking torn between the Captain and his pack leader, but Dogaressa made no move to openly silence him. “Right!!! So… The day we were out looking for the Runt, I was in Waterfall. Ran into some creepy, little brat!!! They attacked and we got into a fight. That’s when they said _they_ were the one who was stealing the souls–“

“…which is ridiculous,” Dogaressa interjected.

“How so?” Boss pressed in irritation.

“Because doing so would make them the stupidest criminal that ever lived. They wouldn’t just _announce_ themselves knowing all the Guard is out looking for them,” She sighed in exasperation. As if trying to state common sense in this room was wasted effort.

“What exactly did they say that made you think they were confessing?” Undyne asked, digging into the report.

Doggo looked like he was sweating a little; relaying the ridiculous story as if it were fact. “They… _literally_ said, ‘You’re after the wrong person. I did it. I killed them all.’”

Sans rolled his head back into the plaster and sunk against the wall. He could hear the words now –coming out of the emotionless mouth of a seven-year-old who sounded like they were reciting it off a piece of paper. No inflection. No malice. No effort. _Extremely_ convincing.

They had lied for him again? Stupid kid.

“And you believed that… _why?_ ” Asked Dogaressa, eyes winced closed like she was at her wits end.

“Hey!!!” Doggo shouted defensively, feeling the judgement of the room. “They smelled exactly like Sans did!!!”

With a grimace, Sans squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel their little head rubbing into his coat, wiping off the muck on their face as they hid beneath the grass. They were so smart; they were stupid. Did they even realize what sort of trouble they were getting themselves into?

“If they admitted to it, then we should be after _them_ ,” Boss growled.

“It’s that brat from the bar, right?” Dogaressa interjected skeptically. “They’re just a kid. They said the same nonsense about Dogamy…”

“How do you know it was nonsense?” Boss snapped.

“They’re smaller than _Sans_ ,” Dogaressa rumbled in annoyance.

“Yet you’re the one sitting here without an arm,” Boss countered viciously. “Maybe you should stop judging opponents based off of their appearance?”

Dogaressa’s black eyes flashed dangerously at the Lieutenant. Truthfully, she hadn’t underestimated him during that fight. In fact, she was one of the few people he’d ever fought who had taken him seriously.

“Doggo fought them, right?” Undyne interjected, tone stern. “Were they a real threat or not?”

Doggo shifted uncomfortably, leaning heavily onto the table. “Well, they use a dagger…” He seemed to trail off getting lost into serious thought as he reported their encounter. “They’re pretty fast, too. They don’t move like any kid I’ve ever seen. They could read the battle so well, it felt like they were running several steps ahead of me the entire time. Like they knew where I was going to be.” Why did he sound shaken? Sans didn’t miss how he glanced to the side at his disappointed pack leader before hurriedly speaking again. “But they’re just a kid!!! Their reach was pretty short!!!” He announced as if bragging, “Plus, they didn’t even have any special abilities whatsoever –I’m sure of it- pretty harmless at that age, right???”

Boss didn’t seem happy with his change of tone midway. He glared at Dogaressa for influencing his opinion. “You fought them, too, right? At the bar?” Boss pressed her, “Didn’t seem like you were holding up too well against them.”

“They were only able to achieve that because _Sans_ made them impossible to hit –and they hit like a fly. They were an annoyance at best.” She defended. “Like I said, a _child._ The only dangerous person in that fight was Sans. Without his intervention, they could have easily been dealt with.”

“Looked differently to me,” Boss snarled at her pompous response.

“Then you saw wrong.” She shot a hateful glare Sans’ way, nodding in his direction, “ _He_ was the one with them at the bar. Why don’t you have him tell you about them if you don’t believe me.”

They all turned to look at the little skeleton leaning against the wall. The sudden attention ousting him from simply blending into the background unnoticed like he’d prefer. Sans frowned back, glaring hard at the hound.

“Go ahead,” She taunted sarcastically, all eyes on him, “ _Try_ and convince me that kid is actually dangerous… More so than you.”

Bitch. If he said they were harmless, he’d only be implicating himself further. But saying they were dangerous would put Frisk in severe danger.

“If you know about them, I demand you report them properly,” Undyne threatened, narrowing her eyes at his silence.

Boss would get the _whole_ guard to go after them as a scapegoat.

 “Speak, Sans,” Boss ordered impatiently. Temper short.

“Their n-name’s Frisk,” He muttered. Giving up his most unbiased observation of the cloak under Boss’ order. “They’re just some ‘lil kid that likes ‘ta f-follow me around. They’re skilled with a dagger, but their level’s low. They could be talented at stealth, b-but they’re too eager ‘ta start fights. Seems like they always go in headfirst. Sayin’ their personality’s _strange_ is puttin’ it lightly –but t-they behave just like any kid I’ve ever met. They seem ‘ta like cinnamon, happy stories, and sweets. I doubt they have anythin’ ‘ta do with this.”

“So… _harmless,”_ Dogaressa pressed.

“…Yeah,” Sans admitted.

“Then, it _was_ you…,” She concluded, livid.

“It ain’t me.”

“Enough of that,” Undyne snapped, silencing the room. Proposing, “So, basically this kid who’s fond of you found out you were in trouble with us and lied to try and help you out.”

“Y-yeah. Seems so,” Sans mumbled dejectedly, mood sullen. Not meeting her eyes as he muttered his response.

Undyne looked unimpressed. “Why does anyone like you again?” She sighed exasperatedly, rolling her eyes. Then, kept the conversation moving, turning back to her colleagues. “Does that sound about right to you, Doggo?”

He hesitated. Eyes shifting around to all the heads that turned his way like he was being singled out. It only lasted for a split-second, though. “Yeah!!!” He exclaimed boisterously. It sounded to Sans like he was just trying to fit in with the group. Masking the failure of fear. “Yeah, that was it. It was probably just a lie!!!”

Undyne sighed irritably with all this time wasted. “Then, we’re going to dismiss the child’s claim as –“

“I don’t think you’re taking admission to mass murder seriously enough!” Boss was quick to interject, before the report could be dismissed. “If you heard the same thing from an adult monster would you brush the possibility aside so easily?”

But they _weren’t_ an adult monster. Even if they had claimed they had done it; they were hardly capable of it.

Level three. What was that? Six –Seven lives?

Yet that was next to nothing compared to any one of the monsters standing in this room. Seemed hypocritical any one of them could call someone else a murderer. It was why he always found these investigations and trials so pointless. It was why he never fit in with the Guard in the first place.

It was just a band of murderers running around telling the other murderers they couldn’t do it. Only one of those groups profited. Only one of those groups grew strong under that rule. While the other stayed weak. Every member of the Guard was a step above the average citizen. It was the difference between being on the winning or losing side. “Outlaw dusting” was just a pipe dream. Now, with that rule in effect, there was a group of monsters whose levels spiked above the norm, striking fear into the other monsters as they slaughtered the ones who opposed them.

That was the Guard. That’s what they were: Power-levelers.

No one wanted to be weak in a place like this. No one wanted to be on the lower end. Scared. Desperate. Barely scrapping by. Fodder for the strong. Sans understood.

You either killed or you _were_ killed.

Undyne sighed in aggravation, weighing the facts. Duty-bound to uphold their ridiculous ideals. “Fine,” She relented irritably before Papyrus could spill over into one of his speeches about upholding a sense of law and order in the Underground. “That’s a valid point. It shouldn’t just be dismissed. We’ll put out a force-wide watch for this child. If you see this kid; you bring them in.”

“But…!” Dogaressa protested, realizing what that meant.

Undyne continued to clarify the verdict, “Yes. That means any punishment for those crimes will have to be postponed to a later date. Until we can get all of the facts straight.”

Dogaressa was speechless. So, too, was Sans.

“That’s not fair!!!” Doggo objected, guiltily speaking up for his leader. “Then, you’re just letting him walk free then!!!” He protested motioning to the would-be killer.

“He’ll be under supervision until then,” Undyne assured in a flat tone. As if giving little consideration to the complaint.

“He’s –“ Dogaressa began.

But Undyne cut her off, casting such a foul gaze her way it stopped her mid-sentence. The strongest always got their way –and Undyne was the strongest of the strong. “Get me that kid _alive_ and you can prove it was Sans instead,” Undyne ordered in finality. Offering no room for appeal.

Sans could hardly believe it. In fact, he was rather confused. He didn’t trust it. Undyne _hated_ him. There’s no way she’d change her mind so easily or go out of her way just to protect him. He had been certain she was going to take this opportunity to get rid of the eyesore in her ranks once and for all. There had to be something else going on here.

“That’s not all we’re here for, though. There’s quite a bit left to address,” The Captain quipped. Cutting any relief he felt short.

“ _Papyrus_ ,” She announced, spinning a critical eye on him, “Your conduct in the pursuit of this murder has been unacceptable. I don’t tolerate any disobedience in my guard. Nor should any officer of mine ever fall to killing their own men in a blind fit of rage!” She snarled at him, disappointment all over her tone. “As of now; I’m stripping you of the rank Lieutenant. I’m dropping you all the way back to Private until you get your fucking act together! You no longer have any men under your control nor any authority in the Guard. You’ll also officially be charged with the murder of Greater Dog.”

Sans tensed. Nervously glancing down at the back of his brother’s head.

Papyrus had worked his ass off for years to get to that title. Succeeding in the Guard was all he’d ever wanted for about as long as he could remember. It had been all he’d ever wanted since he was shorter than _him_. So, Sans had gone through hell to help him achieve that. Starving orphans on the streets didn’t exactly grow up into healthy soldiers. Getting money for food, shelter, and resources while Papyrus was in training was _how_ Sans had ended up as the town whore. It paid well. Real well. He’d traded a mountain of nightmares for Papyrus’ dream. This ruined everything they’d ever worked for. Everything _he’d_ ever worked for.

Papyrus was now the same rank as the mutts. No, now, Dogaressa outranked him.

Yet Boss’ face was perfectly professional. He saluted. “Understood, Captain.”

“Ha!!!” Doggo jeered at the former-Lieutenant.

Dogaressa looked rather smug across the table. “Good luck giving _us_ orders anytime soon…” Sans stiffened. The way she glanced off at him after the statement made it feel more like a very _specific_ threat.

 “Dogaressa,” The Captain snapped, continuing, “For leading a hunt against one of Snowdin’s citizens who did _not_ have an order to be detained on their head, _all of you_ involved will receive the same disciplinary action as the _first time_ this shit happened,” She sneered, livid. “I’ll also be withholding your pay for some time. Know that the only reason the lot of you aren’t being kicked to the streets is because I’m now _short on guards._ ” She stressed.

Dogaressa tensed.

 “Maybe next time you’re upset, you’ll carefully consider how much you value the lives of those in your pack.”

The insult certainly hit deep. They’d lost two members of their pack in a matter of weeks. Boss wasn’t so childish as to taunt her in an equal manner. _Papyrus_ didn’t make fun of people whose lives had been destroyed. Not that he’d ever had a sense of humor to jest with anyway.

The Captain’s eyes fell on Sans next, “As for _you_ ; you make me sick. Lying and fabricating official reports just to cover your own ass. I hope you know you got what you deserved. You’re being charged with _Dogamy_ ’s death.

“Any complaints?” She challenged, as if trying to press the group’s buttons. Eyes specifically falling to Boss.

Sans didn’t give a shit about any ruling _he_ was given. He had to get _Papyrus_ ’ title back! That was his life’s work. He’d be damned before he let _Pap’s_ dream die here!

Stepping away from the wall, Sans opened his mouth. No sooner had his fangs parted than Boss snatched his collar, twisting the band. The leather constricted around his throat. “ –Nh!” He rushed to grab the other end. The sudden pull in Boss’ direction offset his careful balance. His weight caved under sore legs. He fell to weak knees. Both hands dipping his fingers into the velvety inside to try and spare some slack for air, but he wasn’t sure he had a good hold as the collar tightened. His face twisted in a spike of fear. “– _Ahn_!”

For that split second, he lost his voice, he lost his expression, he lost his nerve; in front of _everyone_. All those eyes stared back at him.

The crimson rushed to his head. His weakened legs were shivering in such a way he didn’t think he’d be able to regain his footing –nor any semblance of dignity at all.

“He accepts,” Boss translated for him, tugging the collar roughly in his direction. Sans keeled over sideways, falling onto the floor. Not daring to say a word of protest in Boss’ chokehold. To everyone else, he disappeared under the table’s edge. He must’ve known how it looked. The black-clad skeleton dragged him in by his neck, until just his head was lying on his lap.

Only then did he let go. Sans was able to tug the twined collar loose again with his hands already buried beneath the band. He gulped down air, looking up at the tall skeleton from below. Boss’ eyes flashed down at him in disapproval.

If he didn’t want him to talk; he should have _said so!_ How was he supposed to know even _speaking_ when spoken to was stepping out of place? …Was he not included in the group that got to make complaints either? Even though he was included in the one receiving punishments?

But there was no room for argument in Boss’ eyes. Shit. Did he care _at all_ that he’d just lost Pap’s dream?

With a pitiful, almost revolted, shiver through his sore bones, he recoiled from those crimson eyes. Glancing jadedly off under the table. Yet from the other side, he saw something even worse. Two beady, black eyes glared back at him from beneath the table. The white furry head was upside-down, peeking curiously just beneath the far side of the table as if it had followed him down.  _Lesser_ was watching him intently with that creepy, deathly transfixed stare.

He instantly tried to jump back up, but his head didn’t get an inch off of the lap before Boss’ glove shoved him back down.

Held down, he could only watch in horror as the white head snaked under the table predatorily towards him. The row of sharp, scraggly teeth opening as his maw stretched wide.

A new, unsettling kind of dread crawled its way through this bones. Fuck. No, no, no. He couldn’t deal with this. He felt like his composure was starting to crack.

If the hand wouldn’t let him up; he went the only other way he could.

As if not looking at him could make him go away, Sans rolled over the other way, curling in on himself. Inadvertently wrapping his legs more around the back of Boss’ torso in the fetal position. Practically cowering, he buried his head further into the lap. Panting into the leather pants to try and muffle his uneven breaths from the others’ ears. Trying to keep his breakdown private.

Even then, he could sense Lesser hovering just behind his back. Waiting to pounce. Could hear his nose going as the beast sniffed at him. Too close. His soul couldn’t pound any harder.

Don’t think about it. He squeezed his eyes shut. Make it go away. Make it all go away.

_Thud!_ A nearby object banged into the floorboards. _Clatter._ All the objects on the table simultaneously rattled overhead. “ _Yeek!”_ He heard a dog’s frightened yip as the presence scattered away.

All those sudden sounds just set him on edge even more. Eyes wide, he tensed, bracing for the next sound to hit him.

“PAPYRUS!” Undyne boomed. “Did you just put a hole in my floor?!”

“It’s _probably_ fine,” He retorted, peering under the edge of the table. Sans felt a large hand snake beneath his collar. The talons curling around his sore vertebrae. That didn’t help. His heartrate actually _doubled_. He shut his eyes as he tried to force his breath still, now trying not to think of the fingers on his bare neck either.

Paralyzed, and practically hyperventilating, he didn’t fight it. He let Boss hold his head down as the conversation continued above.

“Captain! He just attacked–“

“I didn’t touch him,” Boss remarked snidely, in the sort of pompous affinity only he could pull off. Technically, he was playing within Undyne’s rules. Lesser was whining somewhere in the background as Dogaressa tried to console him.

The Captain grumbled as another argument broke out above between the two parties. When she finally wrangled the conversation back on topic, they ran through several more reports, when and where those dust piles were found, how the guard’s patrols were to change to adapt to those new developments, and what the priorities were moving forward. Finding and catching a suspicious child known as “Frisk” was _second_ on that list, only behind catching the real murderer themselves.

He was glad the kid was so quiet that they only ever seemed to appear out of thin air. Sans knew they knew how to hide. He didn’t know if they were capable of doing it when they _should_. He just hoped the kid could stave off their stupider tendencies long enough to stay out of sight.

Sans had been tangled up in the Guard for years. He knew how they worked. Anyone caught was killed. Either fast or slow. It didn’t matter. They didn’t even _have_ any holding facilities for criminals. They just eliminated them. If they wanted information out of them; even as a child, they wouldn’t get the mercy of going quickly.

Stupid, _stupid_ kid. What had they done?

Fangs clenched, he did nothing to speak up for them. He had his own problems. Cheek pressed against the pants leg, his expression flinched up in fear every so often. Boss seemed intent to cut off any protest, quell any worried spike that tingled up his spine, as he intently scrapped his digits between the divots of his vertebrae in an unsettlingly reminiscent way of an intimate time he’d rather forget. Causing him to twitch and tense every time he feared the talon might be starting to wander too far as Boss explored the spaces beneath the collar of the motionless little skeleton facedown in his lap.

Sans had given up on speaking –or moving –or having an _opinion_ some time ago. By now, he just wanted to stay out of sight. He didn’t want anyone to see him fall apart. He needed time to compose himself. Hell, he was shaking, and not voluntarily. He didn’t want anyone to watch while he was weak. He didn’t want anyone to know he _got_ weak.

Yet it was too late for that, wasn’t it? Far too late. This was a downright shitshow so far.

Hating himself, he curled further in towards Boss’ side.

“By the way, Dogaressa,” the Captain added as their discussion winded down to a close. “I talked with Alphys. She said she could make you a new robotic arm if you wanted.”

“Really…?” There was a painful twinge of hope in the voice.

“Really,” Undyne smiled a toothy grin. “She said she’d be happy to help out the Royal Guard. Visit the lab after this, she’d be glad to set you up with a fitting and make all the arrangements to get one built. It wouldn’t be her first time with robotic bodies.”

“You’d better not,” Boss interjected, somehow regal as he leaned onto his one free arm. Twining the fingers of his other hand into Sans’ neck. “She’d sooner dust you than help you out. Don’t be fooled. She has no interest in saving you.”

“Damnit, Papyrus!” Undyne snapped, voice instantly grating back to her usual harsh tone. “Stop spreading those rumors! How many times do I have to tell you she’s not like that?!”

“She’s the most dangerous thing in the Underground,” Boss demanded stubbornly. “You’re the only person who doesn’t think so. Figure out she’s using you already.”

Undyne punched him so fast, it wasn’t even visible, but the crack of the bone as her fist connected with the skull was clearly audible. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt, tugging him across the table towards her seat. Sans was jostled as the lap tilted, but Boss prevented his head from slipping off and hitting the floor.

“Watch your mouth, Private. Your judgement calls are anything but sound lately. I don’t want to hear bullshit from the idiot who just signed his life away for that sack of shit,” She slammed the table, indicating Sans underneath who flinched at the sudden, loud noise. “Damn, you! _You_ try making a hospital in a shithole like this!” She threatened, then released him, letting him fall back to his seat. Sans fell with it, head knocking back crookedly into the lap. “Alphys is a relatively low level. She’s not some crazed murderer! If you had taken Sans to the lab when I told you to, you’d probably know what was wrong with him by now!”

“If I had taken him to the lab; he’d be dead by now,” Boss hissed, starting to twine his fingers comfortably into the little skeleton’s spine once more. “How many ‘patients’ have gone in there and never come out? Her track record isn’t just atrocious,” He leveled, “It’s suspicious.”

“Grillby made it in and out just fine a few weeks ago!”

“Lucky bastard,” Boss muttered, “She must have been overdue for a success case.”

Undyne shot him a testy glare, silencing him. Turning back to the hound, she summarized irritably, “Head over if you _want an arm back_. If not, figure out a way to make your style work with one. Your form is lacking at the moment.”

“Yes, Captain!” Dogaressa saluted as best as she was able. “Thank you…”

“Now then,” Undyne said, rising abruptly from the table, “I’m sure you all know what’s coming next. IT’S TIME TO DISCIPLINE YOU SORRY LOT!” Her voice was harsh, but in that way only Undyne could pull off, it also sounded as if she were teasing long-time comrades. “On your feet!”

All the legs beneath the table stood up as everyone quickly rose to join her. With a slight jingle, the glove dislodged itself from beneath his collar. Sans pulled his head off of Boss’ lap as quickly as he could, freeing up his legs. As equally desperate to get away as he was to obey the unspoken command, he crawled out of the way. The black-clad pants stood as well, joining the others with a slight delay.

Left on the floor on all fours, Sans’ chest heaved as he tried to still his faltering breathing. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to chase away the ghosting sensation invading his spine. But it didn’t do much good. _That_ was certainly there to stay.

“Get up, Sans,” Boss’ chilling voice commanded.

He flinched, fingers twitching against the tile as he noticed everyone was waiting for him. Reluctantly, the little skeleton wobbled onto his own shaky legs some time after the rest, standing a bit behind the taller skeleton. Using the larger body to hide behind. He pulled his hood over his head as he stood, tugging the strings so just his parted fangs were visible past the furred rim. He kept his head down, avoiding looking at anyone.

He felt terribly lethargic. Was he swaying?

On the Captain’s order the whole sorry lot of them shuffled out of her house. Like he had before, Sans stuck close to Boss’ heel, but this time he didn’t bother holding the collar back from jingling. He‘d given up on that. Undyne took the lead, marching them through the caves until they reached the training grounds next door. A fenced in area with rows of weapon racks stacked at one end. It was once a farm that had been converted into a sparring pit. As a mere sentry, Sans had never had to come here himself, but he had picked Papyrus up from this location once or twice before.

“The slowest gets to go first!” Undyne bellowed out across her guards as Sans was _still_ shuffling into place behind Boss on sore legs. His strength was failing. Maybe instead of lying, he should have stayed back in his room? He wasn’t in any condition to be marching around. Reaching an imaginary finish line, he fell against the longer legs in front of him. Leaning against them as he used their stability to support himself. With heavy sockets, he glanced up at the Captain past his hood. She was downright scowling at him.

Instead of dragging him out of line, her eyes flicked up to the taller monster he was leaning against.

“PAPYRUS! That means you’re up!” Undyne announced in her booming voice. She looked at the former-Lieutenant in disappointment. Grimace strong, she sternly added, “That means you’re taking the Runt’s share, too.”

 “Fine by me, Captain,” Boss stated, folding his arms indifferently. Below him, Sans flinched. Little hands twitching against the supporting leg.

His share?

His eyes darted nervously up to the large back blocking him. Ok. He was definitely swaying. Either that or Boss was shifting from side to side, but Boss’ posture was always perfect. Resolutely standing tall, shoulders squared and poised. He didn’t turn around to look at him as he ordered, “Sans, stay here.”

He stepped forward, out of Sans’ weak grip, when Undyne beckoned him forward. Leaving the little, hooded skeleton exposed. Alone with the dogs.

“ON YOUR KNEES!” She barked.

Boss fell to his knees.

The Captain snagged some thick rope hanging over the fence by the gate. She roughly wrenched the black-clad skeleton’s hands behind himself, tying his hands off behind his back so thoroughly she put a boot on his back and tugged the binds to cinch them closed. She hauled him back onto his feet by his bound arms.

“With this judgement; we’re putting this lone wolf attitude behind us,” Undyne bellowed out among her troops. “No more vigilante work! You can either work with the side of JUSTICE and properly punish crimes in the name of the Guard or you can _DUST_ as an enemy of the King. Are we clear?”

“YES, CAPTAIN,” Everyone, including Boss, belted out on cue. Everyone that is, except for Sans who seemed as if he had entirely stopped functioning. Huge eyes glued onto the former-Lieutenant.

“Good!” Undyne huffed, giving her guards a curt nod. Then, she spun her attention specifically to the dogs. “Since he and his kin have wronged you, it’s only fair to leave his punishment to you all. Think you can handle it?”

“Gladly, Captain,” Dogaressa growled, malice rumbling beneath the tone.

“He’s all yours, then,” Undyne spun and kicked Papyrus through the gates into the pen. He stumbled through at first, but quickly regained his balance. Standing straight with the poise only Boss could pull off.

The pack stalked though the gates eagerly after him. Dogaressa snagged the rope with a paw shoving him in towards the center of the ring. Doggo and Lesser seemed to circle him menacingly, hooting excitedly. It wasn’t until Boss was dragged into the center and thrown into the dirt that Sans found his voice again. Gasping like that sudden breath had sprung him back to life.

“The.. T-t-the guard’s punishment –” He stammered out feebly, glancing nervously up at the Captain.

“You don’t even know what it is do you?” Undyne scoffed. Turning her back, she grunted dismissively at him. “Figures.”

Yet she relented in the anxious silence, explaining, “It’s a no holds barred beating.”

Then, Boss could hold his ground.

“From one side,” She added as if to shatter his hope. “The one being punished isn’t allowed to fight.”

“How long?” The question fell past his teeth before he even thought it. Boss had a lot of hit points. Since he was a kid, he’d always had tons and tons of health.

“Ten minutes beating for every level.”

Papyrus was, “T-two and half hours?” Sans stuttered. That was _way_ longer than most matched fights that ended in one monster’s death.

“Normally,” Undyne corrected, “As your owner, he’s taking your turn. He gets it twice. That’s five hours!”

“I-I-I’m only level seven!” He shouted in protest, spinning to look incredulously up at Undyne.

“ _He_ gets the punishment twice,” She glared down at him, arms crossed with authority. “Not your time added onto his.”

“But that’s –!”

“Stupid? That’s what I told him.” Her eyes were fierce, piercing into him with complete contempt, “Your brother is an idiot. _You’re_ not worth _his_ life.”

Sans already knew that! He glared down at his worn sneakers, hands curled into the hem of his coat as they trembled at his side. He _knew_ that. Papyrus needed to live; not him! All he wanted was for Papyrus to survive. Everything he’d ever done was so Papyrus could survive!

Out in the field, the dogs had already begun their revenge, concealed beneath the guise of an official bullshit ‘punishment’. The former-Lieutenant was stuck face-first in the dirt, unable to get up with his hands bound behind his back. The first _crack_ shot across the grounds as one of Doggo’s blows crunched a particularly harsh boot into the back of his skull.

 “You’d better watch. The idiot’s doing this for you.”

He tore his eyes away from the ground to look out across the field where the dogs had a hold on his little brother. As if they knew they had all the time in the world to end him, they seemed intent on dragging this out. Dogaressa crouched forward and yanked his head up out of the mud with her single hand. One claw digging uncomfortably into his scarred socket. Her mouth was moving, but they were too far away for the spectators to hear. Boss must’ve given her one of his snide remarks back, though, because Doggo kicked him viciously in the side a few more times. His face tensed up with each impact, but he didn’t betray any particular expression of pain. Rather than upsetting the pack, this only seemed to amuse the dogs more. Smiling down at him in that unpleasant sort of way. After all, they _did_ have all the time in the world to make him crack.

Dogaressa taunted her prey a bit more, then nodded to Lesser who dove in and sunk a row of viciously sharp teeth into his leg. Sans winced. He knew firsthand how much that hurt, each tooth felt like its own little knife. But Boss didn’t cry out. He just glared up at his tormentor. Lesser bit into him a few more times, chewing on the bone, with no solid response.

It was possible that Boss’ level was so high now that the dog’s attacks didn’t do much damage to him, which _could_ have been true, but Sans found it more likely that Boss was just being stubborn. The dogs were still high levels in their own regards. Even supposing they weren’t high enough to deal any significant damage against Boss in a single blow, they had plenty of time to chip his health down. There was no way their attacks weren’t doing _any_ damage!

Five hours…

Sans’ expression continued to sour as the dogs bit and trampled him. Eventually, the former-Lieutenant’s composed silence grew a lot less charming and a lot more irritating to his assailants. Dogaressa stomped his face in annoyance back down into the muck, rubbing her foot against the skull. She barked an order out at Doggo who ran to the nearby weapon rack. He grabbed a spear from the rungs and tossed it out to the pack’s leader. Even with one arm, she skillfully caught it, flipping it once, up and around, to rest just behind her shoulder. Out of the three of them, she could easily do the most damage.

What was Boss thinking taking his punishment, too? This would surely dust him! He couldn’t defend himself! Even with all his health, even _he_ wouldn’t last that long against three enemies. But…

His hands desperately gripped his chest, trembling from anger or fear or exertion he didn’t even know anymore. –But no matter how much _Sans_ got hit; he wouldn’t dust, would he? He’d proven that; hadn’t he? That his health didn’t deplete?

No matter how long the beating lasted; _he_ could survive the whole thing.

He hopped the fence. Moving before he’d even finished the thought. He hit the ground, sprinting across the field with more vigor than he’d had in days.

“Damn you!” He heard Undyne curse under her breath behind him, half in disbelief and half in outrage. She, too, hopped the fence, chasing after him.

His sore feet thudded across the ground at a pace far too fast for his shaky legs to handle as he tried to race Undyne to the fight. All the dogs froze, looking up from their prey at the approaching commotion. “Wait!” He called, getting in earshot of the hounds, “W-Wait!”

Boss growled before he’d even said anything, crimson eyes chillingly cold as he struggled to lift his head enough under the foot pinning him to look up at the approaching skeleton. Mustering up the strength to lash out the order, “Sans! _Stay where you are_.”

That order seemed to echo. It was intimidating even when he was face-down in the mud.

Obedient, Sans skidded to a stop where he was, kicking up dirt behind him. But he’d gotten close enough for them to hear him. Fists clenched out to his sides, he panted, staring defiantly up at the dogs. Crimson eyes anxiously darting once between Papyrus and the hounds. He could actually hold his head high as he belted, “Switch with me.”

“ _No,_ ” Boss cut him off immediately after he’d finished the sentence.

Sans winced at the harsh, concrete rejection. Boss didn’t think he could take it.

Well, it wasn’t _his_ choice now. Sans knew he could handle this. Sans knew he’d survive this.

“Switch him ‘fer me.” He repeated stubbornly to the dogs. Desperately biting out each word as he locked eyes with the pack leader. It wasn’t a stupid request. This should be _his_ punishment.

“Cute,” Dogaressa hummed sarcastically, regarding him. Her expression smug yet her voice was unamused. She flipped her weapon one-handedly. Then, as an answer, rammed a spear through the spine below her.

Sans flinched. Even though he’d been right in front of her, _offering,_ she _still_ didn’t lay a paw on him.

Boss’ face tensed in a tight grimace as the pain shot through him. She grinned down at her victim, leaning down on the pole, forcing it to sink further through the bones. Wedging the vertebrae apart. She taunted, “No wonder you spoil him.”

The former-Lieutenant took a few moments to try and calm himself. But his face didn’t exactly relax. Past gritted fangs, he spat out the words, “Cap-tain? Could you –?”

“Yeah, I got ‘im,” The rough voice behind grumbled in disappointment. A strong arm wrapped around his neck as Sans was yanked back by a headlock. She snatched the little intruder, practically hauling him off the ground.

Sans was too weak to wrestle himself out of the hold. Yet he struggled anyway as he was dragged away, “W-wait. _Really,”_ He tried to yell. That should be _his_ punishment. Even Greater’s death, which was counted as Boss’ share, was because he’d been defending Sans. He gasped out, _“_ S-s-switch–”

“ _No,”_ Undyne growled in his ear, flexing her muscles even more. The hold tightened dangerously around his throat. _“_ That’s not how the rules work.” She threw him over the fence onto the floor. Where he spilled into a messy pile. She hoped skillfully over the fence herself, landing with a hefty thud on the other side. Sans scampered back before he was crushed by her boots. She stood over him like an unbreakable barrier between him and Papyrus. Bellowing, “On your feet, you ungrateful filth!”

With nowhere near the hustle or effort he had before, he lumbered back onto his sore, unsteady legs. The Captain was seething down at him, but he didn’t lift his head to look at her. She stepped out of his way, so he could once again see the field. “I told you to _watch,_ ” She stressed the last word furiously. “And your _owner_ told you to _stay._ ”

Sans flinched at that last part, ducking his head even lower in shame. The hood fell low over his skull, shadowing his expression. But the Captain could rest assured he was staring very _intently_ at the beating going on in the fields. At the punishment Papyrus was receiving in his place.

“Do you understand? Those are very simple orders,” She snarled down at the unresponsive skeleton.

He understood perfectly well. He understood Boss was taking a beating he hadn’t earned. He _understood_ Papyrus would die here if he let that continue. He understood that they weren’t going to allow them to swap places even if that was fair.

The Underground wasn’t fair.

They were strong and he was weak. He was physically inferior in every way. Especially now. He could hardly match them in level. Nothing but a bunch of stupid gimmicks as attacks. He could never take them on. He had no health and no strength to back up any claim he made here.

He’d never be able to play by their rules.

Good thing, then, that he was a lying, dirty, cheating scum who’d never once played by the rules in his entire life. And he was going to _be_ a lying, dirty, cheating scum until his last day, too. Like hell he was going to let the mutts take his little brother’s life today!

His crimson eye ignited as the magic surged up inside him. With his head angled down, he was pretty sure the hood was low enough that the rim caught the light so Undyne couldn’t see.

“You’re despicable. You know that? I don’t know why anyone ever wastes their effort on you,” She fumed down at him, standing tall, “Do you even know what’s going on here?”

“N-no, Captain.” But he knew enough to know he didn’t give a shit about their reasons _why_ either. In fact, the only reason he answered was because he knew how much Undyne liked to talk. If she was talking, then she was distracted.

Even knowing how much Dogaressa’s axe had hurt when it bit into his spine, he’d _still_ rather spend five hours in a pen with the pack leader than suffer Undyne’s wrath. He couldn’t let the Captain catch him. Sans slipped his hands casually into his pockets in his usual stance, hoping she wouldn’t realize his movements.

He could pull this off. Practically anything in sight was in range of his abilities. Like the Captain ordered; he watched.

She sighed irritably, looking out across the field overseeing her troops.

Dogaressa went to yank the spear out of Boss’ spine, but she didn’t seem to notice how much heavier the weapon was now than the first time she’d held it. How much harder it was to pull out of the ground than it should have been. Focus. A small precise area only. Subtle. He couldn’t let them know. Five hours they had to chip away at his health. If he could slow them down enough –if he could pull their hits- maybe Papyrus would make it out alive.

No matter how slim that chance was, he had to take it.

Spear retrieved, she went to stomp on her victim’s skull again. Sans caught her paw with the gravity on one hand, meeting her foot with an equal pressure so it seemed like she’d hit solid bone. With the other, he pressed down, to a much lighter degree on Boss’ skull until he cringed. It had to be believable. When she went to stab the spear in again, he urgently dropped the hold on Papyrus’ head. Choosing instead to use the gravity to drag the weapon, slowing it as it swung. Knocking it out of alignment at the end so it nicked the rib instead of snapping through it. The spear lodged into the soil, tangled between his ribcage.

It had _looked_ like a mighty hefty swing. It didn’t land like one.

“Dogs are strong, fierce creatures,” Undyne said appreciatively. “They value strength. But they’re also one of the few monsterkind that doesn’t abandon the weakest members of their family. Pups often come in litters. Among the children, the smallest one is called a Runt. Dogs play rough. From birth to adulthood, they fight. Violence is in their nature.”

The pack leader left the spear pinning Boss into the ground lodged through his bones as she stalked to the side. Taunting her prey, she crouched down next to his bound arms. Roughly grabbing one of his hands, she forced him to open his fist.

Sans knew where this was going. She was a fucking vengeful mutt.

Starting at the top joint of the smallest finger, she pressed the joint backwards. Focus. _Focus._ He’d never done such fine, minute areas before. Like the skull, he met the pressure with an equal one pushing back. With his other hand he pressed back against Boss’ finger, mimicking the pressure she would be adding to his joint to a much lesser degree. She forced her strength against his gravity harder and harder. To keep it believable, he was forced to match the increase on the other side.

He winced as Boss’ finger strained back under the pressure.

His soul was pounding in his ears. He _couldn’t_ do it. He couldn’t hurt Papyrus, but if they caught on, if she suspected the resistance she felt wasn’t because of Boss’ superior level and defense, but because of outside interference, Papyrus would have to endure anything she threw at him at full force. With no pulls. With no mercy. If _nothing_ happened, it would be too suspicious.

She pushed. He pushed, too.

_Snap._

The joint caved under his pressure with significantly more effort on her part than it should have taken. Boss writhed briefly in the dirt. The first symptoms of any real pain he’d let slip by.

Sans flinched instantly. Panicking at the mere sound of the bone go. He couldn’t even watch it. Guilt-ridden, he had to look away, down at his sneakers. Swallowing hard. Only hearing the scuffle his victim made in the dirt. The beats of his soul felt more erratic than usual. Sorry, sorry. _No. No, no._ He’d never intended to use his magic against Papyrus! He’d never intended to snap off his little brother’s fingers when he learned how to use gravity! This wasn’t what he’d trained it for!

But fucking _focus._ If he didn’t; then someone much worse would.

He snapped his eyes back to the scene just in time to catch Dogaressa’s paw as she went for the next joint in line. Soulbeat loud and unstable, he split the pressure once again. Forcing the canine to exert far more strength than was needed to get the next sickening, unsatisfying _snap._

Like that, they went down the line of every _single_ joint on Boss’ hands until they’d crumbled and broken them past any recognizable function.

Undyne’s lecture drowned out into the background of his pounding head. He could hardly hear her past each booming thud echoing in his chest. Head slouched low, straining his focus beyond what he could sensibly manage.

“Runts are at a disadvantage. They’re too weak to keep up with the rest and would easily fall prey to other’s jaws. To protect them, if the family chooses to do so, they’re given a collar with another’s name written on it,” She explained. “This person is called the owner. This position is given to the strongest member in the family. Their job is to protect the runt. By canine rules, everything that could harm the weakest member goes through them first. Challenges. Spats. Revenge. Anything. The owner champion’s all those things to protect what’s theirs. If someone picks a fight with a runt, they’re picking a fight with the owner instead. If the runt gets in trouble; it’s the owner’s fault. If they both get in trouble; the owner gets it twice.

 “Runt’s not just a nickname they call you because you’re short. It’s an insult! They call you that because you’re a sponge. You get by solely on the strength of another.”

Hood down, the weakest skeleton’s chest was heaving up and down under each exerted breath. He tried to keep each heavy pant as quiet as possible, so he didn’t draw much attention to his erratic breathing. Beneath the furred rim of the hood, his blazing eye was tracing the fight. Frantically following each miniscule detail.

With no more joints other than the knuckles left to snap, Dogaressa had moved on from that endeavor. Breathless, but not nearly as much as Sans, she seemed to pass the torch over to Doggo. Nodding to him, as she went back to crouch by Boss’ head while she caught her breath. Whispering some taunting words down to him that Sans couldn’t hear.

Sans had no such time to rest.

Doggo kicked Boss over onto his back, now lying on his broken hands. Sans tried not to let his resolve falter at the painfully worn grimace on his brother’s face. The hound unsheathed the daggers held around his belt casually. He leaned down and, with a quick motion, swiped the blade up under his shirt. Cutting away the fabric Sans had sewn together so long ago. Exposing his brother’s bare ribs to the air.

Such a hot rage flashed beneath Sans’ eyes, he feared Undyne might catch the flame that licked up past his hood.

Fuck them! Fuck this trial! If they laid a hand on Papyrus –even if he was barely standing anymore- he’d raze this whole cavern into ash.

Focus, focus, focus. He pulled his vision in from a swath of vengeful red.

Doggo tauntingly dragged the weapon up along the rung of each rib, tapping the metal across them. Then, roughly took the jagged, weathered blade to the top rib. _Sawing_ at the bone. Sans made that his top priority, holding the dagger at bay. But the harder Doggo pressed the more Sans reluctantly had to relent. Lowering the blade ever so slowly as it dragged across the rib, sawing the bone in half.

A small trickle of dust fell away as it carved through.

Sans grit his fangs painfully together as Boss’ legs kicked or twitched occasionally under that prolonged agony. But if he let the dogs go at their pace, they’d snap off all his ribs, blowing through a ton of damage with plenty of time left on the clock.

So, he dragged it out. Torturously slow. Letting the gut-wrenching grating noises screech up from the fields as they sawed apart his brother’s ribs.

 “Well… those rules only apply to canines,” The Captain speculated, oblivious. “To every other monster, a collar is nothing more than a giant target painted over your head. ‘Look at me! I’m weak!’ Most owners lose their runts before they ever hit adulthood.

“But the runts that do survive tend to get their owner killed. In the city, I’ve seen the collar’s curse eat through a whole pack until no one but the weakest was left. But the dumb mutts kept protecting them anyway. Signing their name away on the collar.” She smiled sadly. “Even though it’s a death sentence.”

There was no end to it.

His magic plummeted at a constant decline, but he never seemed to run out. The drain’s biting edge seeped well past his reserves into an empty nothing, sputtering until it started siphoning more magic for him to use as fuel.

Five hours? How long was five hours? Sans’ breath was haggard. Each rasp croaking past his fangs. This time, he didn’t like the way his vision gave, occasionally blurring the figures in the field. It made it hard to concentrate. He slid his feet wider apart to help keep his swaying balance, hoping that might steady the distant figures, too.

Lesser went next, winding his filthy body around the helpless prey. Hauling him off the ground, dangling upside-down. He began to squeeze. Forcing a terrifying pressure on the weakened bones. Now that they’d snapped a clean line through his ribs, it would be so much easier for the snake to collapse his chest in on itself.

Sans didn’t allow it. _Wouldn’t_ allow it.

He held the constricting coils back as Sans himself held Boss aloft in the air, unharmed. If he let his magic sag for even a second, Boss would be crushed. He put on quite the show for the onlookers as Lesser tried to crush him with all his might, but just couldn’t seem to crack the former, seemingly invincible, Lieutenant. The mutt eventually gave up, dropping him with a distrustful snarl. Sans unwillingly let the hold go at the same time, letting Boss crash back to the floor with broken ribs.

He winced at the audible impact as the skeleton crumpled into the floor. Swaying a little too much as he let go and the strain of magic left him. He tried to cling onto the nearby voice as leverage.

 “I think the dogs knew you were a Runt the second they met you. Hitting the weakest member in the family is taboo. They were probably pretty pissed you couldn’t be touched, but kept prancing around outside society’s law completely carefree, doing whatever you wanted. Without ever being punished for your crimes.”

“That’s not how it was,” Sans growled between rasping breaths.

“ _That’s what it looked like_ ,” Undyne corrected sharply with finality. “I think the hounds will be much happier now that you have an owner officially taking responsibility for your actions. No one likes a loose dog. Especially, a feral one. Understand?” She spun to look down at the Runt who was slouching much more than he had been at the start of this lecture. Chest heaving so hard as it passed each ragged breath that it practically spasmed. “On Papyrus’ wishes, I’m willing to play by the canine’s rules. Don’t kill anyone else. I don’t want to lose my best guard.”

Yet she was the one who threw him to the fucking dogs in the first place! He bit back that cutting remark. Don’t get distracted by her.

Focus, focus. Pay attention.

On the field, the hounds had closed in once more. Doggo flipped his trusty daggers back into his paws as he kicked Papyrus over once more none too gently. The _crack_ as the boot connected rang out. What it had broken, Sans had no clue, but he couldn’t be sitting here chatting while his brother was in dire need of assistance. He dipped into his magic yet again as the first dagger came down, shoving it harshly and forcing it to land out to the side. The second missed, too. Almost as if the daggers were magnetically repelled from the bone.

_That_ drain had much more immediate effects.

He felt a sharp pain split up from his spine to his skull like a crack of lightning. All the figures on the field seemed to multiply. Dancing around in a dizzying circle that was impossible to follow.

The second _crack_ that cut across the field was followed by a scream. _Boss_ ’ scream. Brief, but laced with sudden agony.

Sans wheezed in a ragged gasp of air, trying to make sense of those spinning figures as his limbs shook with exertion. Willing all the visions to still and connect into one solid image.

Dogaressa had taken the second dagger and savagely shoved it down to the hilt in the socket of Boss’ scarred eye. Twisting the blade deep in his socket as the others held him up by his tattered, red scarf.

The sight alone made Sans’ own eye twitch in an aching phantom pain. The grunts from the field only adding to that nausea. Just the thought of it was unsettling. How could he space out long enough to let that happen?! How could he let an attack like that slip past his guard? Papyrus needed him! He needed to fo c u s.

––  – ––  –

f o c u s. _Focus_!

His vision swam as Dogaressa dropped Boss back into the dirt. The dagger was gone. A quick scan and he found it back in Doggo’s hand. The pack leader flipped her spear eagerly around her good arm –the only one- gaining momentum. With force the silver edge flew in towards the back of Boss’ exposed neck. Ready to cut his skull clean off his shoulders.

Its arc suddenly curved surreally far out to the side, crashing into the dirt above Papyrus’ head with more than just a suspiciously heavy weight behind the swing. Lodging so deeply into the earth, the possessed blade rattled down as it burrowed through the stone long after Dogaressa had let go of it.

A sloppy diversion.

Sans fell to his knees. His legs shaking too much for his legs to stay under him anymore. Openly wheezing now. Not yet. There were still hours to go. He could still–

“- _Ugh_!” A tough hand slammed down on top of his head, roughly tugging his hood back. The shroud fell back away from his face, revealing his flaming eye.

“You piece of shit,” the Captain snarled. Her fixed smile was positively enraged. She yanked him off the floor by his hood, but the little skeleton limply dangled in her hold. All strength gone. Almost making her next claim seem unfounded, “You’re interfering with _my_ discipline!”

Barely able to focus on anything. He deliriously tried to figure out exactly how many Undynes he was dealing with right now. His sputtering eyelights twitched as he tried to focus in on her vicious smile.

His silence met a frustrated, rage-driven rumble that boomed up from the Captain’s throat. She spun away from him abruptly, hopping the fence. Dragged along in tow by his hood, his shin’s banged roughly against the top of the boards as she stormed onto the field.

 “All of you HALT!” The pack froze. “This punishment is invalid! This sack of shit’s been SABOTAGING the whole thing!” She held him up, shaking him viciously as she approached. The rattling didn’t do him any good. All eyes had snapped up to the limp, little form. She _pelted_ him into the dirt at the dogs’ feet.

“Ag _gh_ –!!!”

Regrettably, his head hit the ground first with a prominent _crunch_. Just a single throw from her; and his skull gave like an eggshell, splitting a twine of cracks away from the impact. He rolled a short distance under the force, damage spiking at the back of his skull. He curled in on himself. Limbs quaking, yet cradled his stomach instead as keen nausea hit him. He knew he needed to get up. He certainly tried. Too weak to pick himself up, he settled for a pathetic halfway, with his knees propped under him and face pressed into the dirt as leverage as he quivered. He could feel the red substance trickling down the base of his skull.

Eyes still aflame, he glanced anxiously up at the approaching Captain. He had to stand. He had to fight.

“We’ll have to start again from the top,” She bellowed, drawing a spear –not one of the measly training spears scattered around the training pit- her own spear. It materialized in her hand with a flash of energy. It crackled with a terrifying red light, “ _Without_ _the nuisance_.”

“Captain!” That scolding tone was all Boss’. “That _nuisance_ is mine. I’ll be taking responsibility for any grievance you have against him,” He reminded. Tone far too pompous for someone in his position.

Sans’ eyes sunk to the dirt a few inches from his sockets. Even Boss’ _voice_ sounded worn. Was he saying he wanted Undyne to throw that dangerous spear at him instead?

Sans grit his fangs.

He wouldn’t allow it!

His vision snapped back up to the Captain. With a surge of magic he threw the deadly spear out to the side with a hefty force of gravity. It was ripped from her grip, the crimson energy whirling away.

It stopped in midair. Spinning wildly as if two opposing forces were fighting over it. The stronger won. Slowly, it settled back near the Captain’s side. She snatched it out of the air mid-spin, catching it without so much as a glance. Confidently holding it in her firm grasp once more.

So much for disarming her.

His vision flickered in retaliation for using his magic. Sputtering like a light going out. That nausea he felt finally spilled past his teeth. He vomited a sticky red substance all over the dirt. Wheezing and hacking. Fighting against his failing senses. Not yet! Boss was still in trouble.

 She seethed down at the little skeleton, “If he’s not going to respect the rules, then there’s no reason he should be protected by them!” He was tugged out of the foul substance by his collar, yanking him back onto his haunches. He sunk back down to the floor in a sitting position. Without the energy to keep himself upright, he sagged heavily into the collar. One eye still blazing.

“ _Sans_!” Boss reprimanded, following up with the order, “Stop fighting.”

He lifted his weary vision enough to look at Boss. Up on his knees between the dogs, hands bound behind his back, shirt tattered and hanging open, revealing a clean line of snapped ribs.

Fuck, he’d _let them_ do that!

“He’s done, Papyrus,” Undyne sneered down at the weak form who couldn’t even thrash in her hold. Breath erratic and forced. “It’s time to drop the dead weight already.”

“ _Undyne,_ ” Boss bit out each syllable testily. Piercing red eyes fixed unwavering on her. As if they were having some silent argument, the two of them stared each other down for some time. Having a battle of wills. Boss was far too stubborn to ever lose one of those.

The electricity in the air between them was almost _visible_.

The collar constricted around his neck as the Captain’s grip tightened. Her voice was rumbling with uncontained rage, “FINE. You want him so bad? TAKE HIM!” She hauled him back and threw him at Papyrus. Unable to stand himself, Sans crashed into him, limply falling wherever he was thrown. Boss couldn’t exactly catch him with his hands bound behind his back. So, Sans sunk down in his lap. Chest spasming and skull split.

“DOGARESSA!” Undyne barked, pacing irritably.

“Yes, Captain!” She stiffened at attention.

“You know all about _collars_ , don’t you? What would happen in this scenario where the Runt interrupts his owner’s punishment?”

“The…” Her eyes glanced between the two still staring hard at each other, catching the strange mood. Sensing that she might just be a pawn in a much bigger game here; one played between Papyrus and Undyne that she didn’t quite fit into. Carefully, she elaborated, “The owner would receive the Runt’s punishment for interfering, plus they’d receive an additional punishment for using their personal belongings to interrupt their own punishment.”

“ _Exactly_ ,” The Captain rumbled, coming to a full stop over the two skeletons. She spun to face them, crossing her arms. Strong silhouette shadowed as she glared hard down at the two of them, fierce eyes caught by a hint of light. But her eyes locked with Papyrus’, not Sans’.

“Fine. By. Me. _Captain,_ ” Boss growled each word, matching her gaze just as fiercely.

Fuck. No! That wasn’t okay! That wasn’t _fine._ The collar seemed to weigh so much more heavily around his neck now than when he’d first gotten it. If he’d had known the damn thing was going to get Papyrus killed; he would have _never_ let him put it on. He struggled to sit up in Boss’ lap, trying not to push back against the other’s broken chest as he tried to sit up instead.

Undyne snarled at the former-Lieutenant’s stubbornness. “You _realize_ the penalty for skipping out on your punishment is _death_ , don’t you?” She fumed. “Are you going to die here?”

“Are you going to kill me?” Boss matched.

Was he trying to call her bluff? That wasn’t a bluff! Sans knew bluffs. They were cold, calculated maneuvers in a game of wits. Undyne was a fucking hot-head. She went moment to moment. _Undyne_ didn’t fucking _bluff_!

She didn’t need to.

Her rage-filled grin only seemed to intensify as she rose to the challenge. _Five_ electric, crimson spears spun up behind her. Each crackling with a dangerous pulsing energy. He felt Papyrus tense beneath him. The dogs scrambled out of the way with no intention to get caught in this deadly crossfire. Even _Sans_ found the energy to scuttle back into the chest behind him in fear. Kicking his feet to push himself away from the looming Captain. Looking up at the terrifying shark with huge eyes.

“YOU ASKED FOR IT!” She bellowed, launching the spears.

Sans scrounged his never-ending magic together, pinged their souls, and threw them both to the side right as a row of Boss’ sturdy, red bones sprung up between them and the Captain.

The spears smashed into the ground they’d been on. Crunching through the makeshift shield and fracturing the stone bellow. It was nothing short of an explosion. Sans and Boss flew away with more than just the force of Sans’ measly magic pushing them. They popped out of the smoke, tumbling over each other for quite some distance before they finally settled. Rolling to a stop several spans away.

Boss landed on top, pinning his brother, who was sprawled on his back, beneath him. The larger weight quickly lifted off of him, but Sans kept his fists weakly clutched into the remains of his tattered shirt. Preventing him from leaving his side on a battlefield. Darkness. It took a few moments before his vision recovered, flickering erratically back into focus. Papyrus’ face was hovering just over his, locked in a tense expression.

“Sans!” He called urgently, but with a reserved volume. One for only him to hear.

The little skeleton sucked in a sharp gasp of air and it actually _hurt_ when his chest started pumping out new breaths. Boss seemed to start breathing again only once he did.

“ _Undyne!”_ Boss snarled ferociously, snapping his gaze up to the battlefield. Sans followed his gaze, tilting his head back to look out at the waking destruction. There was nothing but a crater where they had been, maybe only one of the bones Papyrus had summoned still standing. Tremors quaked through Sans’ whole body, but he kept what was left of his strength furled into Boss’ shirt. He wasn’t letting go of his brother on a dangerous battleground like this.

The Captain spun to face them with a casual step. The smoke still settling in the distance. She only seemed pissed they appeared to have dodged her attack. “ _OHH_?? DODGING?!” She bellowed out their way. “I thought you were _FINE_ with your punishments, _Private._ Man up and take responsibility!”

“ _Undyne!”_ Boss lashed out with her name once again in disappointment, almost as if he were betrayed. “Don’t throw attacks like that around while Sans is in the way!”

“Don’t be DENSE. I’m _trying_ to hit him!” She yelled, stomping across the field towards them.

“Is that how the Captain of the Royal Guard is going to treat monsters who are weaker than her?” Boss challenged, “Just kill off the ones she doesn’t like? What’s the point of outlawing dusting if you don’t plan on protecting the people who’d need it?!”

She seethed down at them, shadow cast over them both. “I’m _trying_ to protect YOU, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” She flipped the deadly spear around pointing down at the little skeleton below him. Point crackling just above his vision. “ _That one_ is going to get you killed!”

Sans stiffened like that spear had actually hit him. What the Captain had been trying to tell him finally clicking into place.

Dogamy had only likely come after him because he didn’t think he could take on Boss in a fair fight. Why else try and capture him alive? When the dogs had circled them both, they’d picked out Sans as the weak link. Boss had only broken a law in the first place to protect him. Otherwise, he’d be untouchable right now!

_He_ was Boss’ weakness. And he was getting weaker by the day. By the minute. By the second.

Oh fuck.

It wasn’t _just_ the collar. _He_ was going to get Papyrus killed.

The ground rumbled beneath his skull as two bones suddenly tore out of the stone, crossing right in front of his vision as they shoved Undyne’s spear away. But they didn’t quite stop there. They kept going. Tearing through anything in its path. The little bit of dust that trickled down wasn’t either of theirs.

It was Undyne’s.

“ _No one asked you to_ ,” Boss snarled, voice low and dangerous. Burning bridges he’d never be able get back left and right.

“You _bastard,_ ” Undyne rumbled vengefully back. She kicked against one of the bones and tore back her spear, crumbling the bone in the process with sheer strength alone.

If they stayed, The Captain was surely going to kill them. Even if they _could_ talk her down from this frontal attack, Papyrus was going to die under all of Sans’ penalties. Sans was going to die no matter _what_ happened. So, Boss needed to stop ruining his life over him! He was going to end up with nothing left at this rate!

Undyne drew her spear back preparing a fierce blow. The fire in Boss’ eyes said he’d be fighting back no matter how stupid of an idea that was. The crimson weapon crackled in like lightning.

Sans grabbed Papyrus’ chest and tugged him out of the blow. Rolling over him protectively. Using his own body as a shield.

They _couldn’t_ stay here. He didn’t have the strength for this. _Neither_ of them had the strength for this. He knew it was a bad idea –but there weren’t any _good_ options left.

Against his better judgement, he pulled them into the void.

The darkness swallowed them up. That familiar emptiness engulfed them. Sans clutched onto Boss with all his might, desperately fighting that drag on his senses. Vision sputtering out into blackness.

No, no! He needed that to steer. He had to take them _home_ or _away_ or out of fucki n g   _h e r e._

––  – ––  –

“ – _ns_!”

“Sans!” Boss desperately shouted his name. The voice sounded muffled. Screaming the order, “Wake up!” A violent jostling motion rocked him back awake. He snapped to attention as he slipped from Boss’ torso down to his knee.

_He was being pulled from the other end._

He latched a hold desperately onto Boss’ leg, trying to hold on, but he barely had the strength. He spun back around to look behind him.

There were _hands_ pulling at his coat, at his shirt, at his legs. _Dozens of white hands_ trying to tug them apart.

They were on Boss, too. Grabbing at his face, his chest, his hips, his legs. Yanking in every direction possible. Pulling them every which way. The void had been replaced by a huge sea of undulating white hands. Boss’ own arms were still tied behind his back, completely useless. He was desperately trying to wrap his legs around Sans to hold him on. If _Sans_ didn’t hold on himself, he was going to slip away from him.

“B-Boss!” He scrambled for a better hold on his long leg. One of the hands seemed to wrap an arm around his neck –Could that even be called an _arm?_ – A thick, black, boneless amalgamation wrapped around his throat, tugging him backwards. Those thick black cords were wrapped around Boss, too. “Bo –ack- o _ssss_ , hang on!”

He urgently kicked at the hands pulling his feet until he could wrap them around Boss’ leg securely. With a better hold, he freed up an arm, desperately swatting at the swarm of hands as he looked around. The void was incredibly dim, without any glimmer of light or exit to be found. Usually, there was enough of them dancing around to make out something. To orient himself somehow. But there was nothing _._ It was so much _darker_ than usual.

Something was wrong.

That eerie, unsettling feeling crept up his spine. He grabbed onto Boss tighter as he desperately looked around for a place to send them. _Anywhere_ for them to go. Total blackness.

Was this even the void?

Fuck it. He pinged Boss’ soul, blasting them in a random direction. They launched away from the hands, ripping out the side of an inky, black spot infesting the void. For a second, it looked like they were in the clear. Streaking to a safe distance away from the dangerous black form. Then, the hands exploded out the side of the amalgamation.

_Chasing_ them.

That thing was fucking _conscious?_ Sans pressed their momentum, zipping back through the void. The hands weaving and ducking under all sorts of rifts and exits as they wound after them, closing in. The few that got too close met a rather vicious end at Boss’ red bones. He was fighting. Stabbing them, smashing them with cleverly timed summons. Relentlessly fending off a never ending army.

Sans’ vision flickered dangerously. The pursuing hands seemed to strobe across his sight. Like static, the swarm of pursuing hands jumped positions significantly between lulls in his sight. He couldn’t –he _wouldn’t-_ let Papyrus get lost to the void here! He grit his fangs, forcing himself to stay awake –to stay conscious. Using everything he had to just push them backwards, let alone steer!

Blind, they tore through a random exit at an incredible speed. Launching a fair distance forward, before real gravity crashed them into the snow. They rolled through the ice. Sans fell a bit short, but Boss, whose soul had been at the epicenter of their momentum, tumbled quite a bit further knocking into the base of a distant pine.

Sans glanced up at Boss, vision reduced to a static pulse. The jumbled heap that his brother had sprawled in twitched. Then, slowly, he sat up, untangling himself. He was okay. A small crooked smile worked its way across Sans’ fangs. He’d made it! They’d made it out!

Boss didn’t match his smile, the one working red eye glancing straight past him in alarm.

He was yanked back suddenly by his feet. Instinctively, Sans dug his fingers into the ground, burying them deep in the snow. Scrambling for a hold until he’d dug up all the snow. Clawing scratch marks along the very stone below as he was dragged backwards. A hand on his foot, then another on his ankle, then another on his leg, then another on his coat, then another on his chest. Not one hand that burst from the exit went after Boss. A swarm of ghostly hands – _Only_ grasping onto Sans. All pulling him back into the rift in the void.

And he wasn’t strong enough to fight them off!

He slipped.

“Sans!” Boss desperately cried, crawling through the snow. Falling just short of reaching him. Piercing red eye locked on his face in terror. His hands were tied behind his back; he couldn’t catch him.

“B-Boss! Ah! AUGHH!” Kicking and screaming, Sans was dragged back into the void.

Instant darkness. He could feel them. Grabbing him. Tugging him. So many hands. So many fingers. _Everywhere._ His face, his mouth, his chest, his hips. All trying to rip him apart.

 “Get offa me!” He thrashed. “Get offa me!” He screamed into a black nothing. Panicking. “Let go!”

He hated being touched!

He snapped. “GET OFF!” A single red flame ignited from his eye in the darkness, scrounging together everything –anything- he had left to give. He gave it all to the blaster. His last resort. That frightening light flickering just behind its jaw over his shoulder. Illuminating the swath of white hands as its growing light strobed.

The blaster fired.

The beam blazed through the dark, cutting through the black ink in a perfect circle. Almost like it morphed out of the way.

He took the opening. Throwing his soul in that direction along with the blast. Whizzing past rows and rows of hands as he flew. He had to get out! Frantically he looked around trying to find an exit in the haze that wouldn’t throw him somewhere deadly. He could feel that painful drag on his magic –on his soul.

And he found the perfect spot.

Home.

He shot through an exit in the ceiling. Smashing into the mattress, he bounced off the edge of the cushion. Crumpling next to his bed, head lolled back across the mattress.

The hands burst from the exit over the bed, blindly searching. Thrashing wildly, knocking everything over, tearing the sheets, flipping the dresser. Still a few found new holds to grasp onto Sans with. Once one found him; more did, too. Winding through his ribs, grabbing onto his arm. Tugging _harder_ and _harder._ Pulling him back up.

He struggled to use the only trick he had left; plain old-fashioned gravity. Weighing his own soul down. He made himself incredibly heavy. Anchoring himself as best he could. Struggling against the prying hands. Batting away what holds he could until only one remained.

_Snap._

“ _Ggghn!”_

The hands snapped off his bottom rib they’d been tugging on, losing their final hold. Thrashing still, all the hands seemed to recede back into the exit, taking his rib with them as if the vacuum was sucking them all back in. They were gone almost as quickly as they’d come. Leaving behind a wake of destruction.

Sans crashed back into his seat on the floor. Half sprawled back against the mattress, his head slumped limply forward into the velvet collar, staring down at the familiar view of his sneakers. Vision reduced to a static pulse. His eyelights guttered out into hollow sockets.

He couldn’t move anymore.

All those injuries were catching up to him. His arm, his skull, his missing rib. His chest felt like it was on _fire._ Each breath included a faint gurgling noise as he felt that red bile in the back of his throat again.

He really was going to die here.

Well, good. That was probably for the best. He didn’t even want to be here anymore. He didn’t deserve to stay. If he stayed, Papyrus was going to die. What was he doing? Letting monsters beat him. No –beating him _himself_.

He’d been controlling those blows; not them.

What was he going to do if Boss’ health had gotten low in those final five hours? Level up on Papyrus’ dust? Let a bunch of fiends murder his only family? But running from the punishment like this was going to get Papyrus sentenced to death –and he’d made Papyrus go with him. He’d almost lost him in the void, too. How badly could he fuck up? Undyne was right. If he stayed alive, he was going to get him killed _somehow._

_He_ was going to kill Papyrus.

Heh. To think he’d had it backwards all these years!

Or had he already managed to kill ‘Papyrus’ off a long time ago? Was there anything left of his little brother?

His precious little brother…

Oh, _Pap_. Pap, he was so sorry. He’d take it all back if he could. If he could do this over, he would never hurt you. Or snap off your fingers. Or ruin all your dreams. Or sully you in any way. He would never teach you how to kill! He was sorry, ok? He didn’t _want_ to abandon you. He had to.

All this time; he’d been clinging on for way too long!

 

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there in the darkness of his room. It felt like ages of agonizing breath until the door creaked open. Stretching the light from the hall into the dim space in front of him.

“Good evening, Sans the Skeleton,” an emotionless voice greeted from the doorway. The silent _tap tap tap_ walked straight past him. The hem of a cloak swishing past his vision as the intruder glided over the floor. “Forgive me for not visiting sooner. It’s awfully hard to get into your room these days.” They unlocked his window. Then, opened it, allowing a draft to drift through the bedroom. Letting more winter tinted light shine through the dim room than his fogged window had allowed.

They peeked back at the motionless skeleton, who didn’t respond. The child headed back his way, “Were you going to mope around all day? I’ve got–“

– _Tap tap splish_ –

–The rigid way the child froze was jarring. Stopped a single pace away, they looked down at their foot. It was sitting in a pool of red.

Cautiously, they eased it out of the puddle. Like they were backing away from something terrifying. “You’re bleeding?” The child asked in a tiny, faint voice. Head tilting left and right to scan across the pooling liquid. As if not understanding their own words, they repeated, “You’re _bleeding?”_

Their head snapped up to the tiny skeleton collapsed against the edge of the mattress. Broken and covered in red.

“No…” The child stated like a pop of air escaping their lips, shaking their head. A realization dawning on them. They slumped to their knees right in the puddle, face blank. “No, no, no!” Their hands flew up to cradle their head, like the world was falling apart around them. They’re were mumbling to themselves. A quiet, insane chatter from their mind. “It should be gone. It hasn’t happened this time –Has it? It didn’t, right?”

_Crack._

The sound was faint. Like a hollow eggshell slowly crumbling.

The child heard it, though. They stiffened, lowering their hands slowly away from their head. Ignoring the raging voices in their mind to allow that terrible noise to fill their ears.

_Crack. Crack._

 In a second, as if they were pulled by the sound, they’d crawled forward. Little hands were already wrestling off his jacket. They peered into his ribcage past the bones. Their usually emotionless face locked up in the most tormented expression as the child fervently inspected his soul.

It was shattering.

They froze. Face scrunched in horror for an agonizing moment.

Then, like someone rewound them, their face fell back into that straight, emotionless mask they always wore. Washing away all the feeling behind their expression. Betraying not a hint of the previous dread. Their calm, steady voice was back. “Get up,” Their quiet, resolute voice beckoned. The child stood up. “Get up, Sans the Skeleton.”

They spun to call over their shoulder, “Flowey! We’re leaving!”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter:  
> It wasn’t supposed to be permanent.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
> 
>  
> 
> We did it guys! We hit rock bottom! Time to go straight through the floor!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHANGELOG: Minor updates to Chapter 15  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> Mandatory Recap:  
> Dogaressa, Dogs, Boss, Undyne, and now PERSONIFIED DARKNESS, you say?!  
> Get me the fuck outta here! I’mma NOPE right outta this existence.  
> Frisk: Yup. Let’s go.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

 

The shadow of a flower peeked its head into the window, casting a long silhouette across the bedroom floor. “Leaving? We just got here,” a squeak protested from the window.

“Change of plans,” The child’s emotionless voice answered, hood tilting down to the motionless skeleton in the puddle of red at their feet. Sans didn’t move. He didn’t blink. He was broken –No, he was _breaking._

As if just noticing Sans’ unfortunate condition, the flower sucked in a brief, disturbed gasp of air through its teeth. Slinking in cautiously closer through the window. ~~~~

“Sans the Skeleton, you have to get up,” That quiet, yet stubborn, voice beckoned him again.

He didn’t respond. Simply allowing time to tick away at his life.

When he didn’t answer, they crouched down in front of him, dipping their head to peer into his empty sockets. “Sans?” The soft voice called gentler, the thin straight line of their mouth curving slightly into a frown. They waited, but he didn’t answer.

Against all odds, he _was_ still conscious. He was still _awake._ For fuck’s sake; he was still _alive_. He couldn’t even die right. Why?! Why could he still hear them? Even if he wanted to, he was in too much pain to respond. He wasn’t even sure if he could describe every burning, aching feeling assaulting his senses at this moment as “pain” anymore. It all just meshed into something awful. One big, agonizing pain that festered like an inferno inside every bone in his body.

Good. Fuckin’ _good,_ okay? _!_ He didn’t want to respond anymore. He _wanted_ his body to shut down. He wanted to die already. Why was it taking so long? Please. _Please_ just _–_

“Come on,” The little voice said. “Get up. I’ll help you,” They took his palm in their tiny hand and stood up, tugging him to his feet. He didn’t even try. He only got about halfway before his slick hand slipped out of their grip. He fell back against the mattress.

His hand was awfully _sweaty. He_ was awfully sweaty.

The child stiffened rigidly, looking down at the sweat he left in their palm where they’d lost hold of him. They curled their palm into a tight fist, pausing for a moment. Hand clutched to their side, they looked down at the failing skeleton stubbornly. “Get up,” They insisted again like a broken record. Voice fading and scratchy as the record repeated its endless loop. They shook their head slightly, “You are not allowed to die, Sans the Skeleton. I won’t allow it.”

Fuck off. Why’d they have to come? They were just making this harder than it needed to be. If they didn’t want to watch him die; they should just leave.

 “What’s wrong with him?” The flower squeaked nervously. Their voice much closer. Sans could see the ring of petals inch into his vision as the creature squinted at him in the darkness, leaning in closer. Then, panickedly, it jerked away. Vines scuttling back. “Is that what I think it is, Frisk? He’s- He’s-!”

“He’s going to be ok,” Frisk reassured in a voice that lacked any reassuring inflection. Sans didn’t know if they actually believed that delusion or not –impossible to tell in their empty tone. Truthfully, his fate was just a matter of time.

Slowly, they crouched in front of him once more. Lowering themself down to his level, hugging their knees. “Sans the Skeleton,” That tiny, soft voice called to him with an almost reverent edge, hood tilted too far down to be looking at him directly. They hugged their knees tighter, “You can hear me in there, right?”

Barely. He was hardly paying attention to anything past his toes and the ring of his fading vision –a narrow circle the child just happened to be within.

 “Think about this.” Small, burnt hands furled into the fabric of both his leather sleeves in a strong, yet gentle, hold, “If you could go somewhere that wasn’t here, you’d want to _go_ , wouldn’t you? Well, good news,” They said joylessly, “Today, I’m offering to send you to an entirely different place. Surprise. Do you want to go? That’s where you _want_ to be, right? Somewhere else?”

He didn’t answer nor confirm their question. He didn’t nod or respond. He stared blankly at his own sneakers. Playing the part of the corpse he so desperately wanted to be.

After a silent moment of waiting, they tilted their head up as if refusing to give up on getting an answer out of him. Stressing even more clearly with an almost desperate inflection, they continued, “You _do_ want to leave _,_ don’t you? That’s what you said.”

Did he? He hadn’t actually _said_ that right? They were just misinterpreting his actions. He’d never said anything like that. At least, not out loud. Besides, he didn’t want to just “leave” anymore. He wanted to be much, much further away than simply that. He wanted to be gone. Forever.

He _wanted_ to be dead. He had no need for sentiment. Pity, morals, insanity –whatever it was that drove the kid. If they weren’t offering a way to make his death quick; he wasn’t interested.

“If you still want to go; I _need_ you to get up,” Their empty voice emphasized, echoing dizzily in his head. “We have to leave now.” This time they pulled him up by his coat sleeves, which were much less slippery, tugging him onto his feet as they stood up themselves. His legs felt like jelly beneath him. Wiggly, unstable jelly. Instead of standing, like any healthy person would; he tumbled forward, barreling right at the smaller form.

They didn’t catch him.

Instead, the child side-stepped him entirely, letting him stumble past them completely out of control. They caught his furred hood after he had passed, tugging him to a halt. Saved from face-planting, Sans crumpled to his knees –with more of a _splat_ than a _thud-_ panting haggardly in the stretch of light the open door let seep in from the hallway. His arms slumped in front of him. Some of the thick, opaque, _white_ sweat dribbled down off his hands and pooled on the floor like a candle’s wax.

 “I don’t think he can stand, Frisk,” The squeak narrated in borderline fear.

The cloak hesitated, frowning down at the skeleton. Propping his limp form up with an arm across his chest as they held him upright. “Right,” The stubborn child caved. “Ok then,” They answered some pestering thought in their head, nodding to themselves. They moved around in front of him, still holding him up. “I’m going to take your silence as a ‘yes’,” They stated decisively, “I won’t leave you behind here, Sans the Skeleton. I promised.” They grabbed his sleeves again as they spun around themselves, tugging his arms carefully over their shoulders. Then, the child hauled him onto their back.

“I don’t think that’s safe!” The flower protested as Sans was lifted off the ground.

“He’s pretty light,” Frisk countered with a wry grin, probably knowing entirely well that wasn’t what the flower had meant.

The joke went entirely over the weed’s head anyway.

“What if he melts all over you!?”

“He’s not going to melt.”

“He’s _already_ melting!” The flower shrieked.

“He’s not going to melt,” The child insisted stubbornly. “ _I’m not going to let him_ ,” Sans could hear them growl that last part under their breath only because he was so close. They adjusted him against their back, securing a hold. “Let’s go, Flowey.” They announced louder, darting out the door as fast as their little legs could take them.

Sans winced. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? Dammit. It hurt more to be moved.

“You’re not really–” The flower started, then cut off as the cloak zoomed past them, piggybacking the decomposing skeleton. They cleared the hall and started down the cabin stairs. “No! Wait! Stop!” The squeak called anxiously, sticking its bulb between the banister’s railings. “If we take him, what are we even going to do with him?!”

“We’ll stick to the plan,” Frisk answered, without stopping or hesitating in the slightest. Sans bobbed up and down against their back as the two of them flew down the steps. None of those bumps exactly _gentle_ to his sore bones.

“I thought we were still working on the plan!” The flower screeched after them as the kid flung the front door open. “Aren’t we skipping some key steps here?!”

“We’ll figure it out as we go,” the child decided on the fly, looking only briefly over their shoulder. “And we’ll pick up supplies along the way.” They improvised, pocketing the bludgeoning rock Sans kept by the front door as they stepped outside into the snow, not once slowing. They hooked a hard left out the door, disappearing past the entrance.

Sans could only faintly hear some nervous, panicked wail the flower made from the second floor as the door banged open behind them on its hinges.

But they left the flower behind without waiting for him to catch up, plowing away down the path. Their pace was slower than a run, but faster than a mere walk. No doubt the fastest they could go. The child had angled themselves forward, so he practically laid across their back. Limply, yet efficiently, draped over them, his arms dangled over their shoulders. Head slumped to one side, his empty sockets stared down at the snow. Below a striped shirt, fleshy legs traversed the snow below him. Sans had to wonder why this rocking sensation felt so familiar?

He didn’t want to move. Fuck, he didn’t want to move –but, because he _couldn’t_ move, he could hardly force the kid to put him down. Just end it. It hurt. That disconcerting pain spread like a wildfire through his bones.

A collection of thick sweat pooled on his fingertips and dripped off into the snow periodically.

The kid glanced at the wax briefly. “Listen to me, Sans the Skeleton,” That soft, emotionless voice murmured quietly near his ear. “You need to hold onto a reason to live or you’re going to fall apart.”

He didn’t have one of those anymore. He had a lot more reasons to be dead than alive. It would be much better if he were dust. He was an idiot to not have realized that sooner. Why had he bothered hanging on this long? He made everything worse just by existing. He didn’t even want to be here anymore. He _needed_ to die.

“Remember when…” The child trailed off, falling silent. “Oh, what did we do this time?” They pondered aloud fondly to themselves, a forlorn tone tugging their voice. Thinking for some time before managing to continue, “The bar. That was fun, wasn’t it?”

Were they referring to the first time the dogs tried to kill him? Or was that considered the second attempt on his life?

“Kind of?” They added hopefully.

Sans didn’t answer. Only wheezing into their shoulder with raspy breaths.

 “Nevermind,” They corrected quickly, as if just remembering that event. “Forget the bar,” The child stated more realistically, plowing on. Sans watched the legs that were even shorter than his wrestle each step through the deep snow.

“Remember when…” They started again with a hint of a smile in their voice, but quickly trailed off. The smile dying with it. The shoulders he was resting on, slumped slightly. “When, uhm…” They tried again, but swallowed all their words down harshly.

“We…” Nothing. There was _nothing_.

“When we–”

They seemed to wilt. The child let the faint crunch of snow fill the deafening silence for some time. Only the sound of his soul crumbling away could be heard. _Crack, crack._ They took a deep, steadying breath.

“Remember when,” They tried again stubbornly, the barest tint of hope in the tone, “You… told me that you had a good dream?”

He couldn’t even remember it. They were really grasping at straws here. What good was a dream? It meant nothing. It was worthless. _He_ was worthless. For fuck’s sake, why was he still here? He wanted to die! He was trying to die!

“Did you forget it?” The quiet voice almost teased. A weak smile touching their voice, “I remember all the words.” The snow crunched below them, “A blue Waterfall. It must have been pretty. A strange town with weird decorations. I wonder what kind? A warm, comfy bed that you liked to sleep in –with orange sheets,” They added. “You said you were happy, didn’t you? You know, you _smiled_ when you told me about it, Sans. Good things are _real_. Okay? Don’t forget about them,” The soft voice insisted, upholding a bravado that only seemed more forced the longer they preached. They sighed a long wisp of a foggy breath into the air. The cloud danced past their faces as they plowed forward. “I promise; it’s not all bad. Just hang in there.”

Optimistic kid. That wasn’t a compliment –nor was it how things worked. Some fleeting dream wasn’t any reason to stay alive. A dream _wasn’t_ real. The ‘good things’ they listed were no better than fiction! This wasn’t even about happiness –it was about survival. Survival in the _Underground._ Boss had a chance to survive in this place. But one hit point was a joke. Sans should have _never_ lived this long in the first place! If _he_ was Papyrus’ weakness; Boss was in danger every second he drew breath. With such a crippling, debilitating weakness the Underground would eat what was left of his little brother alive –if it hadn’t already!

If he let that happen, all the ‘good things’ he’d ever known might as well be forfeit! The Underground was a shithole. It would take everything if he let it. This place had already proven it could erode away any good thing that ever happened in it.

They’d learn. Frisk was young, but if they weren’t too crazy, they’d figure that out eventually. Especially when he fell into dust on their back. Then, they wouldn’t do stupid shit like drag a half-dead skeleton down the main road while the guards had just decided to hunt the seven-year-old as a top-priority suspicious individual. The risk they were taking was pointless to begin with. He tried to open his mouth to say as much, but instead a foul red bile gurgled past his fangs.

Frisk paid the red liquid no mind, they kept going. Kept moving. Further down the path towards Waterfall. Adamantly, _stubbornly_ , going forward at their weird half-running half-walking pace, though the snow did threaten to slow them significantly at times. After several more paces the flower finally caught up to them. Its vibrant yellow petals popped out of the snow right in front of them.

“Wai–!”

The cloak stepped over them, kicking up snow as they passed.

The flower popped up in front of them again. “Frisk!”

Frisk walked past them. Never slowing.

“Stop!” It squeaked, popping once more in front of them like a determined slice of toast.

They didn’t stop. They kept going.

The flower appeared further ahead of them on the path, leaves spread wide, like the world’s worst barricade. “Please,” it cried, begging as they walked past him, “Can we just talk about this plan first?”

“I made up my mind. No waiting, no stopping, no turning back,” The child practically chanted with zero inflection as they passed him. “We have to keep going until we get him out of here.”

The flower struggled to keep their pace, backtracking just to stay within sight. “But getting him out of here isn’t going to help!”

 “We can’t drag this out any longer. I _knew_ this was going too well, Flowey,” the cloak stated hollowly, reprimanding themself. The grip supporting him tightened marginally as they plowed ahead, “I should have _known_ something was wrong when he didn’t die early on. And I _ignored it_ all as ‘ _good luck’._ ” They seemed to deflate slowly. “We’re doing it now. We can’t wait any longer.”

Flowey shook the petals of his head slightly as the child stepped over him. “So you made a mistake. You can’t know everything, Frisk. _We_ couldn’t have known,” He tried to settle the brash child, trailing behind as he failed to keep up, “Forget about the plan! He needs medical attention now!”

“Where do you suggest we take him then? To the Doc?” The emotionless voice inquired. Even without inflection, Sans could pick up on the sarcastic intention. “Nothing here is going to save him, Flowey. This place will only make him worse.”

He had been afraid they were trying to revive him. So, it was a relief to hear he’d still be dusting even with the brat’s interference. Yet this kid was going to make his last moments painful if they kept dragging him around like this. Weren’t they being contradictory? Where did they think they were taking him? Sans had news for them –the Underground was a relatively small place. If they were trying to run away; it wouldn’t work. He’d tried that before.

You could only get so far.

Popping out of the snow again, the flower wrapped itself around the kid’s ankle as if he were trying to slow them down. He only got uprooted, getting tugged along at their pace instead. “Please, Frisk! Let’s find a different way. I’m sure, with enough time, we could find a way to fix–”

“We’re _short_ on time,” Frisk interrupted with an empty echo. “Flowey, do you trust me?”

“But–!”

“Do you trust me?” They asked again with zero inflection. Not even irritation. The question sounded like an actual, honest measurement of the flower’s trust.

“Of course I do,” The flower squeaked miserably, voice quieting as he mumbled into their ankle. Stem wrapped around their leg like a feeble hug.

“Then believe me when I tell you we are doing the right thing,” Frisk stated like a fact, continuing forward.

Sulking, the flower didn’t complain anymore. They wound their vine up around the small form, avoiding Sans as much as possible, until they plopped themselves down atop the cloak’s hood. An awkward silence passed, while Frisk refused to slow or stop.

“You know I’m on your side, right?” The flower asked quietly, dipping its stem to peek down into their vision. “You know I just want to help?”

Frisk hesitated for a fraction too long before replying, “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Flowey.”

The three of them continued forward in that awkward silence, adamantly traversing the path while entirely relying on Frisk’s legwork. The child’s cloak billowed in the harsh winds. Home was far behind them now. Sans only knew they’d gotten so far because they’d hit that telltale spot in the cavern path where the winds picked up and howled through the gorge, drowning out the faint crumbling of his soul entirely beneath its roar.

With nothing left to do but wait for his final breath, Sans vacantly watched the cloaked child plant each snowy footprint into the deep. When, suddenly, the ground began to tremble beneath them.

For the first time since they’d left the house; they stopped.

Forced to succumb to a low rumble that grew in intensity as the quaking sensation of the terrain rapidly increased. Frisk struggled to hold their balance on the shaking earth, staggering with the extra weight of the baggage on their shoulders which threw off their balance. Sans suddenly pitched forwards as Frisk backpedaled, barely dodging the incoming assault.

With a violent noise, a massive object tore from the ground like a tower erected just to block their path. Almost throwing them off the dislodged earth as it burst upwards. Then, another. And another. Until an almost evenly spaced wall of bones stood before them. The giant constructs were placed too far apart to actually stop them. They could have fit -walked right through the bars, in fact, but the threat the barrier delivered was obvious.

“STOP!” A loud, sinister voice boomed, cutting through the winds.

Frisk half-turned to look behind them at the voice. They hardly seemed alarmed at the impressive display of power. Quite the opposite. Sans even heard the kid mutter, “ _Took you long enough,”_ under their breath as if they’d been expecting a visitor the whole time.

“ _You_ ,” The voice dropped to a low, familiar snarl, recognizing the cloak. Confirming the small figure indeed belonged to the wanted individual. “By order of the Royal Guard, you are under arrest. Don’t you dare take a step further.”

Sans would recognize that voice anywhere. His eyelights didn’t return. He couldn’t possibly move his head, but he strained his empty sockets to look past the cloak’s face at the edge of his vision. Behind them on the snowy pathway, Boss stood tall, obscuring a dark silhouette on the street’s lowered visibility as the snow got kicked past by the wind.

He was still alive! He’d dumped him off in some random spot after the void –he was afraid the Guard might have gotten to him by now when he didn’t show up at the house. Sans felt the faintest bit of relief wash over him at the sight. Then, it was gone. Quickly followed, then trampled, by a panicked, much more urgent, need to _not be seen like this_. Not in this… _failure_ of a condition.

Instinctively, Sans tried to straighten himself up. Tried to hide his current worsening condition. Tried to _lie_ about it. Yet unsurprisingly, nothing moved in response. Not a single limb. Not even a finger. He remained pathetically draped over the small child. Completely at their mercy. Wheezing into the cloak’s back. As weak a mess as he’d ever been.

Boss would have a fit, wouldn’t he?

“Where do you think you’re taking him?!” Boss roared, stalking dangerously closer up the trail towards the child currently kidnapping his brother.

“Away,” The kid answered in one of their typical unsatisfyingly short answers. Letting that curt response hang in the air just long enough to tick Boss off before continuing. “I’m going to save him,” The kid stated in a flat, certain voice. “From you,” They added as the intimidating figure stepped into a clearer view.

That made Boss’ face sour. “ _Me_?” He asked incredulously in a low, testy growl. “I think you’ve got that backwards. _You’re_ the soul-snatcher everyone is looking for. Are you not?” Boss demanded louder, sounding confident he was accusing the right person of the crime. “I _know_ this had something to do with you! Tell me what you did to Sans’ soul. It _was_ you, wasn’t it?”

He was blaming the wro–

“Yes, it was.”

The air left Sans like a kick to the gut.

It was…?

That relieved swell in his chest seemed to falter as he processed that response. Frantically trying to decipher their words.

What did they mean, ‘ _It was’_. It couldn’t have been them. When would they even have had the time to _do_ anything to him? They drank milk and ate sweets. Not exactly a criminal mastermind’s agenda. Could they have laced his food? But he was having problems long before he ever ate with them, wasn’t he? There was no way. Why were they lying? If they said that, Boss was going to get the wrong idea!

He was going to get mad.

Boss bared his fangs at the admission. “What have you done to him?!” He hissed maliciously, dangerously on the verge of full-on rage, “I knew you poking around Sans wasn’t merely some childish interest!”

 “You shouldn’t have let me do it then,” The emotionless voice quipped. Seemingly only to enrage Boss further.

 “Put him down,” Boss snarled viciously, glower darkening. A red shimmer danced off the billowing ice as a long, magnificent bone sword appeared in his hand, signaling his patience had run thin. His knuckles cracked as he wrapped a fist firmly around the handle.

Every joint on that hand had been snapped back into position, except for the last segment on the ring finger which seemed to be missing. Was that what Boss had been doing all this time? Realigning the hand _himself_? That must have been excruciatingly painful. Sans could still feel the sting in his own arm where they’d reattached his forearm. He couldn’t imagine doing that to every single joint in his hand and still staying conscious.

The toll of that heavy weariness showed clearly on his brother’s expression. Boss was certainly looking rough around the edges. His shirt was slashed open, showing off his damaged ribs and, while his intimidating pose was cleverly angled to hide his other hand, Sans could tell the joints had yet to be reestablished with many of the segments missing entirely. That hand was ruined. Yet even in his condition, he aimed the sword confidently their way in a clear threat.

“You can’t have him back,” The emotionless voice refused.

That wasn’t their choice! It was hardly the time to play childish pranks! Sans tried to reach for Boss, but he couldn’t step between the two of them like before to deflate the escalating situation. He couldn’t move whatsoever. Nothing was working anymore. He tried to tell Boss that he was okay –that he didn’t need to draw his sword against the child –the brat was a liar– but the words gurgled in his throat. Red bile and white wax dribbled off his broken form into the snow as his chest spasmed on the lost words. No amount of his clever lying was going to hide that. Obviously, he was in a much worse condition than Boss was.

His brother bristled, clutching the sword even tighter. “I said; RELEASE HIM!”

“And I said; no,” the emotionless voice answered too calmly. “But,” They added, “I know you won’t let me leave.” The child turned suddenly, taking a few steps off the side of the road. Turning their back –and consequently Sans’ –towards Boss’ weapon. “You shouldn’t be pointing that thing at your brother anyway. He won’t survive a hit from you.”

Boss stiffened, but he continued to hold the sword out at them authoritatively.

Frisk walked them to the treeline. Then, crouched down a bit, straightening their posture. Sans slipped easily off their back as if he’d been greased. His legs didn’t catch him. They had the consistency of wet noodles. Were his bones even solid anymore?

He collapsed against the trunk of a pine Frisk dropped him off at. They used his jacket to help settle his position against the tree, instead of touching him directly. He sunk against the wood with no control over his useless limbs whatsoever.

“Flowey, stay with Sans,” The child ordered in their hushed voice, plucking the plant off their head and dropping him in the snow next to the broken skeleton.

Sans struggled to look up at his brother, but he had no control of his head. Neck limp. It felt like the angle of his head, which was slumped into his shoulder, cut off his air. Failing to adjust to the new position, the small skeleton’s chest spasmed a few more times on weak breaths.

“Sans!” Boss called urgently, stepping towards them. His one working eye, the one that hadn’t been gouged out by Dogaressa, was glued past the child at the slumped figure in the furred leather coat.

The child turned back to face their attacker unfazed. Dark cloak swishing around the misting of snow at their feet as the wind danced their cape. They stood perfectly still, like a barricade between the two skeletons.

“I left him with you because you were supposed to keep him safe,” The emotionless voice stated. “Look what you did.” They nudged a slight indication towards the broken form that was supposed to be Sans, “You failed.”

Boss’s good eye snapped back to the child with unbridled rage. “You _left_ him with me?” He bit out the preposterous word, taking offense to the pompous way they assumed ownership over his property. As if they had _given_ Sans to him. “He wasn’t yours to _give,_ ” He corrected.

“Why not?” That tauntingly clueless voice challenged.

“Because he’s _mine,”_ Boss growled out every syllable.

“He is? ’Your’ what?” The child countered, head tilted up as if they were staring hard at the taller form past their lowered hood. “Your servant? Your toy?” They cocked their head slightly to the side in a curious yet childish manner. Too childish for the provocative words spoken. “Your pet?” They asked, their annoyance finally getting a rise.

“My brother!”

 “I don’t want to hear it.” The dull, immediate dismissal was almost as chilling as Boss’ rage. “You don’t have the right to claim that anymore. He might die now. Yet here you are,” The emotionless voice stated, “ _In the way_.”

 “Like _hell_ I’m letting you walk out of here with Sans!” The intimidating skeleton nudged is sword in a shooing motion. “Move over there!!” he commanded, holding them at sword-tip.

“No,” The child insisted, holding their ground. Once again stating Boss’ least favorite word. Not caring that their poor choice of argument only seemed to enflame the situation.

“ _Pick your words more wisely_ ,” He growled savagely, shoving the sharpened sword threateningly closer. The point perfectly aimed at their neck.

“I’m not giving him back to you,” The child didn’t even flinch. Sans was starting to get the impression that they had weapons pointed at them often. With no noticeable inflection in their voice, they stubbornly answered, “If you want him back; you’ll have to take him from me.”

It sounded ridiculous coming from such a small child. It was impossible to tell if they were serious or not with that blank face of theirs –but their _stance_ was serious. Their feet were planted wider as if they were already prepared for a fight.

At least, that request was easily obliged. Papyrus shoved the sword in even further in an impatient jab, aimed straight for their throat.

Yet, seemingly before he had even begun the maneuver, Frisk was already moving. The crimson sword jutted in as the silver edge spun out of their cloak in a flash, slashing against Boss’ sword. Intercepting the attack and throwing it wide. Instead of dodging, the child pressed _forward_. Frisk stomped on Boss’ foot, then elbowed upward into his injured chest with their following arm as the taller opponent leaned _into_ their blow with his own attack. He took the hit hard. They shoved him away by forcing themselves straight into him. Caught off guard, Boss actually stumbled back.

The child advanced two steps. Their cloak, stirred by the winds, revealed that telling striped shirt beneath the dark fabric. A child’s clothing.

Sans’ jaw practically hung open. He couldn’t believe they did that. _How_ did they do that? He’d seen them spring a surprise attack before, but he never expected they’d be capable enough to out-maneuver the former Lieutenant! A fluke? Dumb luck?

Boss was quick to secure his footing. Swiftly realigning the sword protectively across his chest to cover any following attacks, suddenly prepared to take this seriously, but the child stood still where they were. As if they’d never moved at all. Head tilted up as if they were staring hard at him again –this time _not_ concealing the knife held loosely in one hand.

“I told you not to aim that thing at him. He was right behind me and you attack that sloppily? What if I had dodged by stepping out of the way?”

Boss held his perfect stance, but his face grimaced down at the little form. “Clearly, I didn’t think you’d _dodge_ ,” he hissed sarcastically, looking at the child as if they were a blight on the earth.

“So, you _do_ care if he dies?” The quiet voice summarized. “Yet you risked it,” Their voice lacked inflection, but the subtle underlying anger came across in the way they tightened their grip on their dagger.

Boss didn’t fall into that trap in their words, prying for his motives –for his shortfalls –for his weakness. They were easily close enough that they could still use Sans as a hostage and walk away scot- free. Boss was far too pissed to let that happen. “He’s going to die at this rate either way,” He spat back stoically, keeping a level head. Refusing to let them in, “If you call that a risk–”

Sans had done the same thing in the past when confronted with similar situations; _lie_. Pretend he didn’t care. He shouldn’t let it get under his metaphorical skin. But it _did_ bother him. There’d been a time –an age- when Papyrus didn’t care who’d known it.

Shit. He missed so much about how his little brother used to be.

_Crack._

The child sprang out suddenly from their calm stance _while_ he was talking – while he was distracted– dashing straight for him. Perhaps there was more of a trap behind their words than the obvious one. Boss barely got his sword leveled with the lowered strike of silver that sped out at his hips. The blades clashed. Boss parried.

The two of them skidded away from the failed attack at the same time. Recovering their stances almost in unison. Yet Frisk came out of the engagement having gained even more ground, no longer backed into the treeline where they’d dropped Sans off at. They now had a lot more room to maneuver.

And Sans had a much better view of the fight.

  “You think he’s a lost cause? Yet you want him back, do you? _Why_?” The emotionless voice questioned. “So you can hit him again?”

That easily touched a nerve. Boss’ socket twitched. “Child,” he started, tone dripping with malice, “You don’t know what you are talking about.”

“He’s injured,” The stoic voice stated the clear fact. “So then, you _let_ someone else hit him?” They prodded.

It was like poking at a lion. Boss sneered, baring all his fangs. “If you are suggesting–”

The slight displacement in the cloak was the only heads up their opponent received. Frisk was playing dirty. From a pure standstill they darted in again, not allowing him to speak. Knife blazing out against his openings. They cut a wide diagonal slash that met sword. Then, an uppercut, followed by several short jabs.

Boss fell into a focused silence, meeting their dagger where he could, dodging otherwise. Throwing in as many counter attacks he could as the speedy silver dagger pressed in constantly. Always slicing in from curious angles. A hip, a knee –not vital areas per se, but vital to his stance. They still had to be protected. As Boss kept his defense, the weapons clanged against each other in stunted bursts over the wind.

Sans could see the sparks where their blows met.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. Through all their years he’d never seen Boss attack a child. He’d never had a reason to. Unlike Sans, Boss had gained every level he had by arguably legitimate means. He’d never preyed upon weaker monsters just for experience. He fought his battles head-on, on even terms. Frisk was only seven years old, there was no way they’d be a match for Boss. They were signing away their own life to pick a fight with him. They were too young for such suicidal tendencies!

For starters, they had nothing but a measly little dagger and Boss had a _sword._ A magnificent, magical bone sword. He was taller. His arms were longer. He had the superior reach. Perhaps that’s why they were staying in such close range to him. Not a bad idea. Their height difference might have been good for Frisk because it meant Boss struggled to hold a proper defense against them. However, it was simultaneously bad because every blow Boss swung their way had the added weight of gravity behind it –and they were already weaker than him physically.

Yet to take advantage of that, Boss had to actually _hit_ them first. From what Sans could make out among the blur of weapons; Frisk dodged every attempt he made. Or met it just as fiercely with their own dagger.

No, no. This was wrong. This was all wrong. They shouldn’t be able to fight on Boss’ level.

Yet they were.

They were matching him blow for blow. The cloak was spinning and twirling and slicing. And above the sparks of battle –he could barely see it at the edge of his slumped eyes. Scarcely visible against the blur of movement.

 

**Frisk**

**Level Twelve**

 

He felt a heaviness tighten in his chest.

Sans almost choked on his own wheezing, haggard breaths as he began to panic. That couldn’t be right. His vision must be going. They were only three levels under Boss now? Level _twelve_? He was certain they had only been level three the last he’d seen them at the bar! That wasn’t that long ago. Was he expected to believe that child had a body count higher than he did?

That high a level wasn’t even a Level of Violence most adult monsters reached. _Dogaressa_ didn’t even have a body count that high. Level three was only about six kills, but level twelve was over _seventy-eight!_ That little kid couldn’t have possibly killed seventy-two people since he’d last seen them –in a matter of _weeks_. In a _month_. They’d have to kill two or three people a day!

Yet the numbers didn’t lie. Somehow, the kid was already level twelve.

He felt like everything he thought he knew about them was shattering along with his soul. Why was this so difficult for him to learn about? It shouldn’t come as such a shock really. Had he even known _anything_ about them? They were no more than acquaintances. Yet seeing that level planted above the child’s head crushed that last, remaining hope that even a measly scrap of innocence could still survive in this shithole.

_Crack._

He’d known it all along, though; even the children were killers.

The numbers didn’t lie. _They_ hadn’t lied, had they? He’d seen them lie effortlessly before, but this wasn’t one of them. It was all true. It _was_ them. Somehow, they were responsible for the slow degradation of his soul. They were responsible for the countless missing lives and soulless bodies lining the streets. He needed to start seeing them for what they were: A murderer. A young, but frighteningly capable murderer.

One who’d just set their sights on his little brother.

No, on _Boss_. On the former Lieutenant of the Guard. On a shrewd and merciless fighter who killed _any_ foe in the name of a false sense of justice. A solider with a quick blade, but quicker temper. A strategist who didn’t discriminate between age or wealth or circumstance –no matter how pitiable- as long as they were on the wrong side of the law. _His_ law. One he invented himself. Rules he didn’t follow himself, but forced upon others with fear alone. The Great and Terrible Papyrus; Snowdin’s ruthless, martial dictator.

. . .

He couldn’t do it.

Despite the obvious truth, the clues, the evidence, the damn _common sense_ ; he couldn’t see the child as a serial killer any more than he could see Papyrus as anything other than his little brother.

This fight shouldn’t be happening. He had to stop it. Sans strained to lift his head up to witness the battle, a painfully broken expression painted across his face. Fear sunken into his hollow eyes. Yet he couldn’t move anything more. He could only watch.

Oh, fuck. Please; let him be wrong! _Please_ let Papyrus have enough moral boundaries left not to kill children. _Please_ let the kid be harmless. They were a weird, creepy kid, sure, but he’d long abandoned the idea that they might be dangerous. He didn’t want to believe that!

_That_ level at _that_ age. It would be unsettling to anyone. Off-putting. Strange. Sans could tell it had caught Boss off-guard as well because, as the fight dragged on, it became apparent he was _baiting them._

Papyrus didn’t just drop a finishing combo like he did to the normal rabble that he encountered in guard work. No, he was using simple, rudimentary attacks. He was being careful. Overtly so. The equivalent of sticking his hand in a bear trap. He was testing Frisk. Seeing what they could do. Observing what they were capable of before he dove in with any risky attacks. He was handling them more cautiously than any of the sick, twisted criminals he regularly encountered in his line of work.

Boss swung his sword in, leveled with the child’s head. Another one of his obvious attacks. Frisk deflected the blow meant for their face, by meeting the blade with force, then, throwing it wide. The crimson sword hit the end of its wide arc, which should have been a clear deflection, but Boss reversed his grip on the handle. Quickly shifted his feet, spun, and jabbed the blade under his arm at the child again.

Suddenly, breaking from his former pattern of simple swings and easy maneuvers. Deviously spiking up the skill level required to dodge it. Throwing them off-guard.

Yet they kept up.

Frisk was forced to side step the unexpected blade that plunged for their chest. That walked them right into place of one of two predisposed positions. To either the back left or right of Boss.

He was cornering them. They’d been dodging all his attacks so far. If he couldn’t catch them; he could herd them along. Forcing them into planned locations. It was a clever solution to a curious problem.

Stepping into his trap, the black clad skeleton flipped the hold on his blade again. He turned, and slashed out as his prey once more. Cutting a huge horizontal swipe.

They backpedaled, stepping outside his reach. Almost off balance as they leaned out of the deadly swipe.

Boss spun all the way around, stepping out as the crimson sword circled fully around for a second swing. It reached even further.

This would get them. Perhaps they’d anticipated a counter attack, but surely they hadn’t foreseen _three_ consecutive attacks. Yet, as his blade sped in; the little cloak ducked. They shouldn’t have had the time to do it, but they were dodging his blows before there was even any visual indication of Boss’ next attack.

The sword passed harmlessly overhead. Or harmlessly for _them._ Boss was closer and, now, wide open. With their little dagger, Frisk cut a vicious upward slice into his ribs.

It connected. Confirmed by the unsettling _crunch_ that resounded across the battlefield.

Sans winced.

His brother was already dealing with broken ribs. An injury that had been caused by _him_.

Boss was finally forced to retreat, pulling his sword back in line for defense as he did, but there was a telling stumble to his step. His free, broken hand hovered near the new cut added to his chest injuries, but he couldn’t apply any pressure with it. Dust trickled away from the wound into the harsh winds.

If Sans’ face had any color, it would’ve drained clean off. Dust? It was worse than he’d thought.

Frisk stalked after the black-clad skeleton. “I’m not going to make this that easy for you,” That emotionless voice stated, dagger poised and ready, “I may have said you’d get him back if you killed me, but I won’t die here. Not to you.”

“We’ll see about _that_ ,” Boss snarled hatefully, clearly done with caution. “No more easy mode, child. Prepare for a _real_ fight.” Regaining his poise, he dropped a heavy atmosphere of gravity magic over them. The same crushing power he’d used against Greater.

It hit like a ton of bricks. Their pursuit ended then and there. Right where it was. The child’s feet slid even wider as they fought against the unseen force trying to flatten them into the ground. Yet they remained upright. Greater had fallen immediately, maybe because he was taller. Easier to get imbalanced and topple over. They were already low to the ground to begin with. Correcting their balance was quick and easy. They managed to stay on their feet, albeit trembling under the weight of the new gravity. Yet Boss’ plan was effective nonetheless. Now, they were stationary.

_Boss_ stalked in instead.

He swatted his limp, broken hand to the side as if clearing the way. Then, raised the crimson sword above his head. He slammed the sword down in an unforgiving overhead chop right as a row of knee-level bones swept across the ground. Tearing up the dirt. Smashing anything in their way. Barreling straight for the cloak’s carefully balanced stance.

They stumbled back on shaky legs, aligning their footing to pass _just_ between the spurs of the raking bones as they simultaneously thrust their hands above their head to block the incoming blow with their dagger.

_CLANG._

It was timed so the blow crashed at the exact second the bones swept under the child’s feet. If they hadn’t moved their feet, they would have surely been knocked over and then crushed under his blow. And if they hadn’t blocked the cut, they’d be taking a nasty hit.

They did both.

Even now, having successfully aligned both the block and their footing, they almost buckled under the force of his swing. They even had to catch their dagger wielding hand with their other just to force their save steady. The crimson sword grazed off their dagger as it pressed down, scraping along the slope of their short blade and in towards their left shoulder.

They had the narrowest window after the bones passed to lean their shoulder out of the swing. Yet they managed it. The motion threw them off balance. A dangerous thing to loose when gravity threatened to collapse you.

Boss didn’t wait for them to recover. He did it again.

Drew the sword back, swatted his ruined hand, and slashed. This time from the side. They had only a second or two to perfect their footing and decide how to block before the summoned bones raked below their stance.

Since they were already out of control, they didn’t bother blocking. They just fell, ducking under the swing entirely. They even put _both_ their hands on the ground to keep gravity’s force from laying them out across the floor. They stuck their butt up like a bridge, refusing to go down. The blade passed overhead. The criss-crossing of raking bones pummeled in, yet seemed to miraculously miss all _four_ limbs planted on the ground as they tore by.

Absurd.

Frisk pushed themselves up with a big heave, stumbling back. They planted their feet wide, just in time to meet another diagonal strike from Boss. Again, they needed both hands to block Boss’ one-handed swing, but they _did_ block it. And the second row of bones that scraped through the earth appeared to pass harmlessly by their feet.

Again. Boss summoned more bones with his useless hand. Then, swung reversed. Same direction, same tilt, different angle. They didn’t _need_ to move.

Yet they wisely did.

Legs still shaking against gravity’s weight, they changed their position anyway –with effort. Sliding their heavy shoes across the snowy floor into a new place while repositioning their blade.

They blocked this one, too. The bones ripped by, leaving them unharmed even though they’d only had a few brief seconds to react.

Again. And again. Each of Boss’ swings growing angrier as the implausible stunts continued.

_CLANG. CLANG! CLANG!!_

Surely, they’d break. They’d misstep eventually. It was inevitable.

Objectively, Sans was impressed with the assault; if not a bit terrified of its ruthlessness. Honestly, it was the best use for Boss’ broken, shattered hand that couldn’t perform precision nor hold onto anything. Just like he had when his hands had been tied above his head, Boss had figured out he only needed the wrist movement to move a bone with gravity. But unlike Sans, Boss was moving a dozen of them at once –all tearing up the terrain. And they weren’t just serving as a nuisance to his opponent, they were detrimental. One hit knocking their stance off and they’d be flattened like a pancake. Wide open to any of his following swings.

Yet Frisk was doing it.

Somehow. Even though it seemed impossible, or at least improbable, to block a sword with a dagger. Even though Boss himself probably didn’t even know _exactly_ which direction his ground attack would sweep in at. They were lining their feet up perfectly for the rows of bones _every time._

Balance, dodging, positioning. Somehow, they were keeping track of all three _perfectly._ Without any flaws –one wrong step would easily get them killed. But they weren’t making any wrong steps.

They lifted their heavy feet, almost waddling backwards on shaky legs under the crushing force. One foot angled to the right the other to the left. An odd stance. The child stopped exactly two paces back as Boss pursued them. Crimson blade unforgiving. He slashed down at the retreating child. The bones raked by, churning stone and snow in their wake.

Their little feet slipped right between the narrow space in the spurs. Their dagger lined to block the attack, both hands supporting the blade. The weapons clattered against each other for a moment, as the two of them fought for strength.

Boss waved his leftover hand. A curt gesture from the wrist, pulling in the next onslaught.

Frisk pressed forward, harshly at the exact same time. They couldn’t win a strength contest with Boss. Impossible. It was pointless to try. Yet Boss pressed back. Predictably harder. As he did, they tilted their dagger, letting the crimson blade scape off the short silver edge. It was the equivalent of dismissing his blade. Smart. They weren’t getting baited.  Refusing to allow Boss to pin them down. They only held the sword at bay while the rows of bones threatened their feet. Then, they freed themselves up to move once again.

They spun one foot out, in a wide circle. Keeping their legs the perfect distance apart to resist the gravity as they turned their entire body to the side. Both hands clutching their blade in front of them, pressed low and down. In an imitation of what a real “ready” stance might look like. As if they had suddenly forgotten how to properly hold a dagger.

Boss flipped the handle on his downward swing then slashed back up.

The sharpened bone clashed against the metal as a second wave of bones passed beneath their feet. The previous awkward angle of their dagger, deflected the upward strike to swing wide of their body and head.

Yet the clash was so strong; it pressed the smaller form backwards with the force. They slid back along the ice a short distance, sliding _in line_ with the direction the bones were raking past. Their feet remaining between the waiting teeth of the comb for the entirety of their brief skid.

That couldn’t have been dumb luck. It was like they actually had the time to think and prepare responses to the onslaught. Boss must have thought so, too. He picked up the pace. No longer did he summon rows of bones to sweep across the floor –that was too time consuming. Now, he motioned his hand up. With a flick of his wrist, a score of bones burst out of the ground. All spiking up out of the snow simultaneously. The attack blanketing the entirety of the battlefield.

Boss regained control of his weapon, slashing in once more. Quickly.

Frisk’s feet were already lined up to land between the spikes. Their dagger already prepared to block.  The weapons screeched against each other. The force throwing off the child’s balance. But they didn’t fully trip. The bone grid had already receded back into the floor. Briefly.

This flick of the wrist was much easier for Boss to perform than the wave of his arm. The bones appeared even faster. And much more frequently. It was less than a second before a new layout of bones shot up from the floor.

Even stumbling, the child seemed to land their steps between the trap. As if they were tip-toeing around death itself. Now they were constantly on the move. There was no more stopping. No more bracing for Boss’ swing. They couldn’t afford to. Buckling down for any attack would keep them in one location for far too long.

They ducked and dodged an onslaught of merciless swings, shuffling their feet constantly. Dipping and leaning out of lethal attacks. Huge scores of bones erupting up out of the ground. Like a steady pulse that drummed through the battlefield’s floor. Popping up briefly every second, for only a moment, before the entire force would disappear underground. Only to pop up a second later in a different location. Like a spike trap centered around wherever the child happened to be standing at that moment. The cloak fended off Papyrus’ blows, dodging and even slashing back in retaliation. Changing their legs’ positioning every few seconds so their feet were always _just_ between the grid of bones as they tore out of the earth.

And despite the dizzying array of things to dodge; they never once looked down to check their feet.

How could they be that confident where they were standing was safe? The entire battlefield was getting torn and riddled with holes. If Sans himself were in the same situation; he would have retreated. Yet they didn’t even spare a glance to make sure their feet weren’t about to get impaled. They didn’t even seem bothered that their movement was being restricted so much by gravity. They didn’t question if the direction they’d just leaned would allow Boss to land his next blow, even in cases where they weren’t looking at the incoming blade directly! Yet every placement they made was devoid of any fear. They remained entirely apathetic.

They were so certain, in fact; it was unsettling.

It seemed as if they were only baiting time away as Boss wasted his magic on useless attacks that could never reach them. As if they had already calculated everything out precisely and _knew_ exactly when and how they would win. Maybe they really were a machine after all.

A soulless, empty machine that knew nothing but battle. A heartless creature that only mimicked life-like interactions so they could squeeze under the radar with minimal suspicion. Designed unsettlingly to look like a child so they wouldn’t be suspect to crimes or other misgivings. Sans found himself just waiting on held breath for a blow to land so he could finally hear the metallic _clang_ that would confirm his theory once and for all.

Frisk strode between the pulsing bones with mechanical precision. Each step flawlessly aligned to land harmlessly between the legion of attacks. Every attack programmed to miss.

Boss would never catch them if he was waiting for them to mess up. Computerized accuracy was built into their system. He had to make it unfair. He had to make it impossible. If given even 0.001% chance to dodge, somehow they’d still pull it off.

Irritated, Boss started making the bones longer. Fewer, but longer as he divided his magic. The attack pulsing up from the ground grew taller as the area it covered grew smaller. All of the attacks congregating beneath the child’s feet. The bones were taller than their legs now. They wouldn’t just be impaling a _foot._ They’d rip the robot into spare parts.

The child jumped backwards. Each move timed impeccably. Each leap drummed in tempo with the pulse of spikes chasing their feet. The thundering beat pounding out of the ground like bullet holes. The sound appearing to grow louder as their retreat brought them closer and closer towards Sans.

Out of Boss’ reach, he no longer had to swing his sword. He planted the crimson blade into the snow, conducting a second attack of bones with a wave of his free hand.

Two bones whirled in, spinning wildly like a boomerang from opposite directions. They crossed in the middle, closing in on their target.

Frisk tucked themselves into a tight ball midair. One projectile passing above. The other below. They jumped again the second their feet hit the ground in line with the tempo. The pursuing pulse grew in volume as the attacks grew closer to Sans with every dodge. Destroying the ground until he could feel the vibrations of the attack drumming through the floor beneath him. Shaking the pebbles nearby.

He’d never be able to dodge the approaching encounter. He could barely lift his head enough to see it coming! And they were steering it straight for him!

The cloak spared a glance at him over their shoulder, turning their attention entirely away from the battle for that one brief second.  Yet never slowing. Judging what little distance they had left between them as they approached rapidly. Spikes in tow. Their feet narrowly missed the next attack that burst from the earth below them. Boss’ assault was unforgiving. The flying bones were already barreling back in at varied heights. Offering too narrow of a space for them to squeeze between this time.

They were going to collide.

Frisk was backtracking so quickly, they skidded to a stop when they dug their heels in. They slid backwards across the ice. Little feet landing directly in front of him as they stopped. So close, they were practically standing in Sans’ lap. As if they’d lost their balance, they fell down. Crouching quickly, they mimicked Sans’ height and shape, too. Plopping themselves straight into his lap. That is to say, they immediately _ducked_.

The boomerang bones, which had been barreling straight for them, suddenly careened off track. As if they’d been yanked suddenly by a magnet, each tilted high of their intended target. One spun wide. The second blow narrowly missed Sans’ scalp as the projectile crashed, lodging itself noisily into the trunk above his head. Spitting off splinters and other wooden debris from the collision as the bone itself shattered and tore halfway through the bark above him.

Likewise, the pursuing bones broke the earth, tearing and bursting forth from the ground right in front of Sans’ feet. Yet none of the bones were actually _beneath_ the two of them. As if the trail had screeched to a sudden halt. All the attacks fanned out as they veered to the sides of him. The spikes that jutted up were mere inches in front of his toes and fingertips, all angled away, as if it were a split-second decision to avert the attack at the last minute. Avoiding him entirely.

Boss wore a rather stressed expression. Tensed as he held his breath.

A cloud of dirt and snow powder settled slowly down in the destruction’s wake, a child’s silhouette stood up among debris. Freeing the weight from Sans’ lap. “ _Careful_ ,” Frisk warned, that flat voice taunting, “Or it might seem like you actually care.”

Boss sneered back. “Cheap trick,” He growled. Eyes wandering to assess the potential danger of the situation. Lingering on Sans to double check him.

“Yet effective,” The child observed, looking left and right at the all the near-fatal bones spiked _away_ from them. They weren’t wrong. Sans could see that logical mind of theirs connecting all the dots only a blind man would miss. Calculating. Processing. Clearly, despite Boss’ denial, using Sans as a prop had _some_ effect or that attack would have gotten them otherwise.

“Didn’t like your odds in a fair fight?” The former-Lieutenant challenged with contempt, knowing his secret had been discovered.

“I never do,” The emotionless voice admitted, shaking their head slightly. Standing forlornly still for a split second, hood tilted low. Before they snapped their attention back up to their opponent. “Can you guess what else I don’t like, Papyrus?” Frisk grabbed a fistful of Sans’ furred hood and tugged him forward, away from the pine.

Boss visibly stiffened. Eyes glued onto the hostage.

“I don’t like people like you. I don’t like people who get consumed by their own emotions,” Frisk dragged the limp skeleton by the scruff of his leather jacket away from the creaky tree as it toppled over. It crashed into the snow right behind them. The child pulled him against the trunk of a different, nearby tree. “You’re losing yourself to anger. And you’re going to lose _him,_ too.”

Boss watched the whole thing with a steady rage boiling beneath that cold grimace of his, but he didn’t attack as the child pulled Sans to safety. As they stood close enough to his brother to be a threat. “You dared to use my brother as a _shield_ ,” Boss snarled. “Do you expect me to feel nothing while you put him in danger just to cover your damn defense? Step away from him now, you arrogant whelp!”

“So you think _I’m_ the problem because I got close to him?” The emotionless voice repeated with a dead inflection. “You believe _I’m_ the person posing the most danger to him right now?” Their quiz casting all sorts of doubt and blame Boss’ way.

Boss’ red eyes flicked between the two of them. “Don’t think I don’t see what’s happening here,” He stated with a sneer. “I see what you’re doing and you’re _wrong_.”

“What am I doing?” Frisk challenged, quiet words lashing provocatively quick. They stepped fearlessly away from their bargaining chip, leaving the safety of Sans’ side. Little footsteps crunching the snow as they approached their adversary. “Go ahead. Explain this to me.”

The tall skeleton practically rolled his eye as he plucked his blade from the snow. “What is it this time?” Papyrus asked in borderline sarcasm, patience thin, “Do you think he’s pitiful?” He confronted them, surging a sudden cluster of spikes from the ground beneath the approaching threat. Frisk dodged, but didn’t stop walking. “Does he strike you as so helpless you need to save him from the big, bad monster _ruining_ his life?”

Sans could understand the contempt in which Boss spat the suggestion. Honestly, it wasn’t the first time someone had made that assumption. Sans had _killed people_ for making that assumption of his little brother in the past. Because it wasn’t _Boss_ ’ fault.

It was _his._

_Crack._

The child said nothing. Either unable or unwilling to correct him. Instead, they avoided all the obstacles Boss threw in their way. Settling into a sprint to close the final distance between them. Quickly diving into a flurry of quick slashes. Silver streaks speeding for his chest.

Boss blocked. It wasn’t particularly difficult to do. They were all speeding in for the center of his chest. He barely had to move his sword at all to deflect all of the cuts. But he had to deflect a full on bombardment of them.

“I don’t know what attachment you _think_ you have with my brother, but allow me to paint a rather clear picture for you _,_ you naïve child.” He stressed, holding firm under the assault, “You are not his knight. You’re not his hero. You are not his savior. Sans _doesn’t_ have those things because, the truth is, Sans doesn’t _need_ those things,” He batted their dagger aside to throw a vicious strike himself. They were too fast, though. The blow met metal as they recovered in time to block. Boss pressed down anyway. “He doesn’t need your help. He’s entirely capable of taking care of himself –He just _won’t._ ”

That naïve child held their ground under the force. “That means he _needs_ help,” They corrected, pressing back. Yet they didn’t have nearly enough strength to oppose him. The sword didn’t even budge.

“One would think,” Boss spat, pressing harder. The dagger quaked under the pressure as he leaned in. Sword dipping dangerously close. “But let’s put that theory to the test. Suppose you find him freezing to death in nothing but a jacket at night, so you drag all the blankets over to him to share. You’ll wake up with his jacket on you, too. Yet he’s miraculously under _none of them_.”

Their hold on the dagger tightened. What was visible of their frown twitched. The child grabbed the hilt with their second hand suddenly, shoving back. It took all their body weight behind it to heave Boss desperately off.

“Sound familiar?” Boss taunted their reaction. “There’s more. Suppose you point out the food he’s eating is garbage. He’ll just laugh it off. So, you’ll tell him _you_ don’t like the food instead and then he’ll take it upon himself to sleep with a monster who burns him severely. Then, he’ll bring back a _single_ , greasy hamburger as _payment,_ ” Boss fumed, side-stepping to avoid a lethal vertical slice. Returning the favor, he bombarded them with his own assault of savage slashes next. Heavy clangs cried out into the chill air, drowning out his own words. “Tell him you’re upset with him and you don’t see him for a month as he drinks himself into a stupor at the same monster, _who hurt him_ ,’s bar. Leave him out of sight for less than a day and he’s been _attacked,_ half dead on the floor _._ Yet get attacked yourself and find all your attackers dead come morning. Leave him alone and he tries to kill himself. Stay with him and he acts like he’d rather be _dust_.” The complaints all came so quickly. Jumbled together one after the other that he almost couldn’t make them each out. However, that emotion behind the voice was loud and clear.

 A deep pain buried in raw frustration.

He’d hurt him. Everything he did had hurt him. Fuck. It even hurt to _listen_ to. It was painful to hear the complaints from the person himself. From the one who was the most affected by his behavior.

So, even though Sans was just now figuring it out, Papyrus had understood this whole time, hadn’t he? Worse; Papyrus agreed. Sans _himself_ was the problem. It was hard to admit, but it was true. “Boss” was just a byproduct of his own damn mistakes. He was such a fuck up; he had ruined every single thing he had ever touched. He hadn’t just messed up his own life. He ruined Papyrus’.

 He taught him how to kill. He hid him away in Waterfall. Made him dependent on him for food and company. Then, nearly killed himself more times than he could count with risky behavior. He accrued hefty debts, threw himself into a dubious prostitution ring, and created a criminal record too long to read. Then tried to wash it all away with alcohol. He left every one of his problems behind for Papyrus to solve. No wonder he became a fucking Guard. It paid. It had connections. He started using Boss’ name every time he got into a dangerous situation hoping the other monster would be _too afraid_ of his little brother to start something. Of course Papyrus was the terror of Snowdin! Sans would be defenseless if his reputation was ‘that lovable guy who lives down the street’! He’d done everything for him. Then, when Papyrus wanted him to do something in return; he’d laugh it off. They’d yell at each other. They’d fight. Then, Papyrus would win. Because Sans refused to fight back. “Boss” was the name he’d given his overbearing, commanding, little brother.

Boss was someone he had created. Now, he couldn’t even let him go –he deserved it and Sans couldn’t even die right! He knew he’d fucked up! Could he honestly say everything he’d done had been in Papyrus’ best interest? …Did it matter anymore? All he wanted at this point was to not be responsible for his little brother’s death –and he was fucking that up, too.

Because he was _still alive._

He was missing his chance! If Boss took him back now, there’s no way he’d let him simply die. Boss wouldn’t give up on Sans, even when he wanted him to! He –Damn it all, he _cared_ too much to let that happen.

 “I’m not the villain you’ve made me out to be. I’ve just been doing this longer than you. I _know_ my brother,” Papyrus hissed venomously, circling the child cautiously.

“He’s a selfless,” He took a heavy swing.

 “Suicidal.” Another vicious slice.

“Asshole.” Yet another miss.

“Who will never understand why he’s important to you. Every attachment he makes is another burden dragging him down. _You’re_ a burden. So, whatever you _think_ you are doing, child,” Papyrus sneered, panting. “You are not helping. You’re wasting my time. You’re wasting _his._ If you pretend to care so much about risking his safety; you will hand him back to me now, so I can fix whatever it is you broke when you put your grubby, little hands on him.”

Even now, after having endured Boss’ raw frustration; Frisk remained unscathed. Both bullheaded opponents faced each other, refusing to back down. Both of them panting. Both exhausted.

“This is why you can’t have him back,” The child shook their head, “We’ve argued this too many times. I already _know_ you’re unfit to judge his actions.” The cloak rose defiantly against the imposing figure, squaring their shoulders. “Papyrus.

“Your opinion is too biased to be trusted. Every level you’ve gained in his defense has skewed your mind. A _Level of Violence_ isn’t to be taken lightly. It’s not a measure of how dangerous you _could be._ It is a measure of how dangerous you _are._ ”

“I _cannot_ leave Sans with you.”

 “He might not _come back_ if he dies here,” That familiar, emotionless voice now struggled to remain emotionless. A slight tremble to their tone. Sans recognized it. He was familiar with it. That wasn’t fear; it was anger. They lost it, shouting in raw emotion, “I know you care about him, but push aside your pride and realize you _can’t save him!_ ” They spun suddenly into a sweeping low swing, slicing at his feet.

Boss barely dodged, startled at the sudden revert in tactics. The deadly silver passing just before the shins of his red boots. “And how, exactly, do _you_ plan on saving him,” he growled, stumbling back from the near miss.

“I’m not going to save him! I’m going to get _rid of him_!” Frisk charged, practically snarling. Refusing his retreat, nothing but outright anger on their usually blank face now. They took a brutal vertical swipe at his chest.

“Frisk! Stop!” The flower yelled.

It connected.

It did worse than connect, it went clean _through_ his left shoulder. With a sickening _crack_ the entire arm fell off as the bones gave way beneath the child’s overwhelming killing intent. They’d hit him before; but _this_ blow hit that much harder. As if their attack stat had suddenly spiked immensely. The dagger severed the arm clear off. His brother’s broken arm crashed to the snow, only to be trampled by their pursuing feet.

Sans was horrified.

 “B-B-bo –” The faint, stuttered cry died with the bile in his throat, spilling between his fangs as his soul pounded with an excruciating dread. It hurt, but everything hurt. Every sense he had was screaming danger. Screaming fear. Just. _Screaming_.

Why couldn’t he do the same? “B-B-” He stammered feebly, trying to get something out. But failing.

 “’Kill or be killed’, is it?” Boss sneered, struggling not to follow his primal instincts and drop his defense to hold onto the agonizing injury. It was the bad arm he’d lost. His face was obviously drawn in severe pain; but he had hit points. He still had the sword arm. He should’ve had a chance. “So then, you poisoned him as some kind of sick mercy-kill? Are you insane? He’s not yours to take!”

What he didn’t have was balance. The human sought out his weak defense persistently, aiming a second vicious blow at his left hip. Taking ruthless advantage of the side that no longer had an arm to defend it.

“ _Frisk_!” Flowey cried helplessly. Abandoning its post at Sans’ side to scuttle closer towards the fight, “Calm down!”

Boss tried to block with his sword. Their weapons intersected, but he didn’t have a sturdy leverage. He wasn’t able to push it away, nor deflect it. His efforts lessened the blow; but this one, too, connected. As his support was torn away, he crumpled to the snow, catching himself upright on his knees.

Frisk came after him, never slowing, never stopping, with unrelenting hatred.

Boss jabbed desperately out at the approaching danger.

They could have dodged. Could have backed off and given him room to spare themselves an injury. Any sensible person would. _Frisk_ wasn’t sensible. The kid was insane and Sans had always known they had been. They walked straight into it.

The sound wasn’t the metallic _clang_ Sans had been anticipating for so long. It was the sickening _squelch_ as bone met flesh. As the crimson blade slid through their abdomen until it met the hilt.

That hardly stopped them. It was only the _first_ blow on someone with a terribly high LoV. They weren’t just accustomed to battle; they were prone to violence themselves.

Frisk shoved and they both went to the floor. Toppling over. The obstinate child pinned the former-Lieutenant down by sitting across his damaged ribcage. Their weight pressing down on the lower half of his shattered bones. Boss’ blade pierced entirely _through_ their side. The tip of the sword spiked upward, through them, dripping a steady stream of liquid red off behind their back.

It should have hurt. It should have been incredibly painful, but they didn’t scream. Gravity was on their side now. They had hit points to spare, too. Maybe the machine in them knew the pain was a fair trade for the advantage? It was unsettling how steady they kept their expression. A straight, solid mask. Only the slight curl of their lip betraying their true emotion.

Rage.

Shit, shit, shit! Was he going to sit here motionless and watch this?! Boss needed him! He trembled as he tried to move something. _Anything._

The child leaned in menacingly. “I’m not talking about the rules. You and I are more than capable of playing this _game_ , Papyrus, but he isn’t. He doesn’t belong here.”

“He belongs with me.” Papyrus growled equally menacingly back. Leaning forward to match their threat. Hardly giving up yet.

They shoved him back to the ground by his chest, earning a sharp hiss for the rough treatment against his ribs.

_That’s it_! He couldn’t watch this! Sans surged forward onto his feet.

–Then, roughly smacked face down into the snowy landscape. It felt like he’d _bent_ his legs. He writhed in agony. Wheezing into the floor. Every sharp inhale bringing ice and a piercing cold into his chest. His legs had failed him. His eyelights strobed as he tried to call back any ounce of strength. Twitching as he struggled desperately to get something functioning.

The cloak fought to hold Boss down. “Don’t be stubborn! Realize you’d put him in danger!”

 “He’s not that weak,” Boss spat. “He could handle it! He always does!” Resisting, but that was difficult to do with only one arm. While any movement damaged his tattered ribcage. While his sword was caught in the fleshy trap of the child’s side. Pressed all the way through to the hilt. He only had one arm; he _had_ to abandon the sword to hold the deadly dagger at bay.

 “I’m telling you; he can’t. Even if you manage to change the rules- you’ll make enemies. And it’s not the assassins or jealous rebels who’d be a threat. It’s _you_ ,” They emphasized. “What do you think _you’d_ do if that was a reality? If he was in danger every second of every day? Look at him,” They demanded. They shoved his head roughly back to the snow, making sure his head was turned to the side as they pointed their dagger out in a sweeping motion Sans’ way.

And Boss actually _locked up_ at the sight of him. Horror stricken all over his face.

Sans, likewise sprawled in the snow, reflected that hopeless fear in the one, piercing, ruby eye left on his brother’s face.

“He can’t handle you _now._ Do you have any idea what level you’d have to be to be King?” They pulled the dagger in, switching the blade into a freed wrist while he was distracted, drawing back their far hand for a killing blow. They growled the answer, “ _You’ll break him._ ”

Hell if they would! NO! No, no, no! Sans reached a weak hand out towards his brother, outstretching the fingers. It barely looked like his hand anymore. The bones were deformed. Misshapen and covered in a thick white slime. Spindly lines of white wax pulled between the fingers as he stretched them wide. As if they’d been connected and he was ripping them apart. As if they’d been _melting_ together.

No wonder it hurt so damn much.

But that wasn’t important. Nothing was as important as the two silhouetted figures locked in a desperate struggle past his misshapen hand. A weapon raised over his little brother as the wind and snow howled through the distance between them.

Anything! Give him anything. FUCK! _He’d_ give anything if he could have a measly speck of magic right now.

_CRACK._

A sharp pain in his chest ebbed into the soothing flow of magic coursing through him. It was faint, but it was there. He’d take it.

Sans seized the weapon in the child’s hand with his gravity. With a painfully, hefty swing of his hand, he threw the object to the side. Leaving white droplets of his hand behind in the snow.

He’d thrown it so hard, he’d even yanked the kid back too, but they buckled down for the pull. Latching onto their target. Pinned together, his gravity slid _both_ of them along the ice. His attack hadn’t nearly been strong enough to pull them off. However, the weapon was ripped violently out of Frisk’s hand. Flicking through the air far away from either of them.

The object flew into the distance.

Sans watched it go. Allowing a slight, relieved smile to tug his fangs.

Until…

Until he realized that what he’d thrown hadn’t been the dagger at all. It had been the bludgeoning rock they’d taken from the front door just seconds before they’d left the cabin together.

Boss was staring down the blade of the real dagger, grimace tight.

At that moment, Sans was certain that child hadn’t done a _single thing_ they didn’t want to during this entire fight. It was _more_ than just that calculated accuracy that sent a chill down his spine now. What really shook him was what he was looking at in this moment. The child’s hood had been pulled back. Their cloak disheveled by the gravity’s pull.

Beneath was a child with bald skin, mostly hidden beneath a ratty, red-stained, striped shirt. They had a mat of messy brown hair only on the top of their head that framed a cherubic face. Their eyes were so narrow they were almost slits. Their overall complexion couldn’t possibly be considered healthy with an almost sickly tint to their skin. If he hadn’t witnessed all of this –If he hadn’t known _what_ it was, Sans might even mistake the creature as frail.

Yet he _had_ mistaken them as harmless. He couldn’t believe he’d trusted them! Let them run amuck. A _human_ of all things! The _reason_ they were in this shithole to begin with! They weren’t some harmless kid! They were the most dangerous thing in the entire Underground!

And his strength was waning fast. He could feel that sudden burst of magic slipping away from him. Curling his fingers as a sharp, newfound pain crept in in its place.

Boss held perfectly still, boldly staring down the formerly hidden blade. A hard expression set into his skull as he studied his suspicious attacker. They knew an awful lot more than they should. His furrowed brow darkened his sockets, voice low and serious, “What’s your game, human?”

“ _All of it_ ,” They answered bluntly, as if it were a fact. “This whole _chessboard_ ’s mine,” Frisk snarled, “And if you _think_ you deserve to be King you are _sorely_ mistaken. I don’t need players like _you_ in _my game_.”

They jerked the silver in. With a disgustingly horrid _crunch_ they severed Boss’ head from his shoulders.

Sans stared wide-eyed. A pitiful, hopeless cry gurgling up from his throat.

Frisk didn’t stop there. They tugged the crimson sword from their gut, then rammed the bloodied blade down into the still thrashing formation of limbs. Pinning his remains to the ground. Taking off a huge chunk of hit points with the blow. Boss’ life was dangerously low. With the dagger, they slashed again at his remaining arm, using the blade to pry it free of the socket. They threw it aside. With only the legs kicking below them, they began snapping and tearing away ribs with their bare hands as they dug into his chest.

“Frisk, stop!” Flowey shouted urgently, rushing near the child’s side. Wrapping vines around one of their arms to hold them back. “Frisk, that’s enough!”

He wasn’t paying attention to that horror.

Sans’ eyes, mere pinpricks, were locked on the familiar skull of his baby brother rolling loosely away from its body over the ice. All the other noise vanished beyond the faint scrape of bone on snow. The bone finally settled, resting against the strong jaw. Angled his way.

There was a ruby light in the socket.

For one breathless second their eyes locked. Then, his vision ebbed into a wet blur, obscuring his brother’s familiar features. “Pah –y-rus,” He whimpered. His voice barely above a breath. Yet, try as he might, he couldn’t seem to get any other words out. Trying desperately to reach out with the shape of his ruined hand.

 “Sans, I–” A familiar, yet broken, voice started.

Frisk roughly yanked something else off the already shambled, ruined chest.

When Sans’ welling tears finally fell, clearing his vision, that ruby light was gone. Nothing but tears leaking out of his little brother’s empty sockets.

His breath caught.

“You went too far!” The flower shrieked, pulling the child off the motionless bones in a tangle of vines. “How am I supposed to be your conscience if you never stop when I tell you to?!”

Swallowing deep breaths of air, the child went mostly limp in their hold, allowing the flower to drag them back. Heels scraping across the ice away from their victim. They turned to look over at Sans crumpled helplessly in the snow. Only faint eyelights strobing in his sockets. Both their fists tightened. Frisk looked away quickly, back towards their opponent’s remains. A conflicted expression disappeared behind their hardened blank mask, as they swallowed the rage down. “I didn’t go too far,” The child insisted.

“Yes, you di–”

“I didn’t go too far,” They repeated. Their voice an even, empty level once again. “I got it intact.”

They unfurled the fingers on one tight fist. The flower looked between Frisk and their palm with a perplexed expression. Still not letting them free, it curled around their arm, peeking suspiciously into their palm. “It’s too fragile! You’re going to shatter it like the others!”

“This time, it’ll be fine,” The human assured vacantly. Calmly. Confidently.

“No, no, no!” The flower squeaked, shaking its bulb. “This is wrong. Just set it back and we’ll try again.”

 “I’ve been doing that since Papyrus found us,” They spared a glance Sans’ way, audibly gritting their teeth together, “He’s getting _worse,_ not better, Flowey.”

“Then –hear me out-,” It said nervously quick, “Set it back to the start. Before he got like this.”

“NO!” Frisk interrupted suddenly.

The flower seemed startled at their outburst.

The child heaved for a second, calming their emotions.  “No,” They said, composing themselves. Their emotionless voice returning fast. “Think. If we lose all the progress on the Core and he _starts_ like this; he’ll be a goner.”

“Frisk,” The flower tried to state gently as it unwound itself from the small form, “There’s no way he star-“

“ _If_ he did,” They corrected, cutting him off. Pausing for a moment to swallow any other rising words down, “–suppose he did. Flowey, we can’t risk it.”

Flowey hesitated. “Is that why you took the injury? To save time?”

“It’ll heal,” They answered obstinately. “He won’t.”

The flower spared a nervous glance back at Sans’ poor condition, clear empathy on his face, “Did you have to do that? _In front_ of him?” He asked nervously. Mumbling sympathetically, “…It was his brother.”

“Don’t look at me like that, Flowey. We did –“

“The right thing?” The flower echoed weakly.

“…Yes.” They answered a fraction too late. “Let’s go. We need to catch the boat. It’ll be faster.”

Sans barely registered the soft crunch of snow as little footsteps approached him. His eyes still locked on the empty skull getting buried in the cold. Refusing to look away even when short, fleshy legs stopped in front of him. A dark cloak swishing around their feet.

“Get up, Sans the Skeleton,” The human called to him.

Sans didn’t answer. Still frozen, wide-eyed, mouth agape, breath faint, at the vacant, scarred skull several paces away. As if time had frozen him still there. Locked in his brother’s last moments and the words he never got to say.

He felt, more than saw, someone tug his arm up. They pushed a small light into the disfigured remains of his hands. A bright, white light cased in a thick, sharply contrasting crimson that bordered the edges. The dark crimson was overtaking a majority of the soul, but the center was still radiant. The brilliant white struggled to shine through the translucent shadow of red. There were faint cracks along the surface that were highlighted by the inner white, making each thin, slight crack a glowing line that was more prominent than it should be.

It was his brother’s soul. It wasn’t broken yet.

They wrapped his fingers around the precious light, since he couldn’t seem to move them himself. The child crouched in front of him cautiously as they closed his ruined fingers around the soul, “Hold onto this,” That emotionless voice stated quietly. They started to say something else, but stopped themselves. Staring back into the frail skeleton’s empty expression. Then, crassly said instead, “My hands will be full. So, I need someone else to carry it. Don’t die on me halfway.”

He couldn’t hear their nonsense. Papyrus was in his hands –or what was left of them –or what was left of _him_.

“You heard your brother. He’d be disappointed if you gave up now,” The child noted as if it were a fact. Quoting poorly in their emotionless voice, “Don’t be a ‘suicidal asshole’.”

He snapped. How dare they use his words–!!

Sans seethed at them. Pushed himself up as far as he could go. Which was only about as high as his elbows. Twitching, he tried to clutch them in his stupid, useless hands, but they wouldn’t budge. What was he going to do? Boss was dead. Or bodyless. Or …gone. He was gone. His little brother was-

He slipped off his hold and fell into the snow at their feet. They stared down at him, not even bothering to be scared enough of the snarling skeleton to take a step away. They helped pull his face out of the cold by his furred hood. “Careful with that,” They warned apathetically, motioning to the dim glow in his palm.

He stared up at them. Nothing but hatred in his eyes. He’d kill them! He’d fucking kill them!

“I’ll… ill. I’ll ki… _you_.”

The child watched him struggle to form words with a blank, expressionless face. The thin, straight line of their mouth curled faintly into a weak smile that didn’t reach the slits of their eyes. “That’s the spirit,” Their blank voice praised despondently.

They stood up, dragging him out of the snow by his hood. One of the few, solid things about him. The rest of him dangled limply at their mercy. He couldn’t even lift his arms. He could barely force his magic to hold his body into a solid shape.

Oh, god, Papyrus was-

He tried to strangle them. Tried to lift his useless arms, growling, but they barely-

“…ill you… I’ll… …k….”

“And I’d deserve it,” They stated matter-of-factly. “But unless you’re strong enough to fight me off, you’ll have to come with me.”

“--K-kill you!”

“Will you? Here. I’ll make it easy.” They turned around, putting their defenseless back to him. Then, pulled Sans onto said back with the sleeves he couldn’t seem to lift on his own. Instead of trying to assault them, Sans found himself trying to desperately hold onto the precious soul in his hand. Struggling immensely without the proper function of his fingers. He leaned heavily into their back, wheezing angry, hate-filled gasps. “Let’s go, Flowey.”

“Frisk…” The flower squeaked worriedly, watching them go. The plant hovered nearby, popping up several times on different sides of the child as if they were circling them. “Your injury.”

Their shirt was stained an almost blackened shade of red. Unpleasant squelching noises surfacing every time they moved their torso.

“I’ll be fine,” They insisted stubbornly, “I have enough health.” Despite the flower’s concerned look, Frisk continued off back towards the cabin, taking hefty steps through the deep snow. They plowed ahead, a steady trail of red staining the snow behind them. The occasional step causing the human to grit their teeth, but they growled their way through it.

Even with their injury, their pace going back was probably the same speed as before. Never stopping, never slowing, stubbornly going forward.

Sans wanted to struggle. Put up a fight. Retaliate, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He was too preoccupied to fight them. Each unsteady jostle had him frantically trying to clutch the soul between his weak and failing fingers. His body wasn’t listening to him. The light was so precariously held in his grasp. The last thing he wanted to do was drop it into the snow! Hell, he _should_ drop it out of pure spite since the human had told him to hold onto it, but he couldn’t let go. He didn’t know what to do with it –or what he _could_ do with it, but if this was all that was left of Papyrus, the last thing he wanted to do was lose it! The light in his hand seemed so dangerously fragile. So small. So broken.

Dammit –He was doing exactly what they wanted him to do! He _knew_ that! But he couldn’t just _let go._ He’d lose it –He’d lose _Papyrus_!

He was playing right into their cheating hands. This wasn’t fair. This was so unfair. He couldn’t– No, they _knew_ he wouldn’t– drop it.

Before he knew it, they’d passed the garage, the cabin, the town. The trio pulled up to the dock north of Snowdin, where a solitary, hooded figure waited in the wooden boat. Singing blissfully to themselves, “Tra la la. Tri li li,” as if the Riverperson was completely oblivious to the ragtag band’s approach. Which, all things considered, the hooded figure might have entirely been. They always had struck the skeleton as not altogether there upstairs. Basically, the man was a lunatic.

Frisk didn’t so much as greet them, breathing too heavily themselves by now for words. They stepped into the boat, rocking the vessel to get the figure’s attention. They discarded Sans, who toppled over with a _splat_ in the front seat across the wooden bench. Then, took a seat in the back themselves, closer to their guide, hunched over their own leaking wound.

The hooded shadow shook its head, regarding its new passengers. “Tre le le. Children never listen, do they?”

The flower curled up, resting around the human’s neck, shooting a baffled look back at the Riverperson, “About?” It asked almost indignantly, suggesting there was a gap of information in their phrasing.

“My apologies,” Frisk answered, unfazed they’d only received the end-half of a conversation. The child shifted through their inventory, handing a fee back to the Riverperson, “Could you take us all the way to Hotland, please.”

The pay was accepted. Without so much as a word, the Riverperson pushed off. Steering along the bottom of the river with their long oar until they got to deeper waters. The water lapped at the boats edges. An almost calm sensation rocking the boat. The unfittingly serene scene continued on as the Riverperson took up song in the background.

“Tra la la, Rumors say, They’ve been spirited away, But to be fair; He only takes those in despair. Tra la,” The lunatic rambled. Singing their obscure lyrics. Letting their voice reverberate off the river walls.

The song and sights were all lost on the boat’s passengers. Frisk sat, tensed and hunched over their bench, allowing their legs to swing impatiently, almost childishly, off the end. But their face remained a straight, flat mask of expressionlessness.

Sans, on the other hand, who was lying on his side in his seat, had managed to curl himself pitifully around the preciously dim light in his palm. Almost fully in the fetal position. Scarce, fuzzy eyelights staring into the soul he cupped inches from his face. The only voice he could muster was barely a hoarse whisper. Still he babbled on, “Boss. B-b-boss.” He called to it, but the light didn’t do anything but flicker like it might go out. “Pa-Papyrus,” He whimpered, clutching the shape protectively into his chest when it didn’t respond. Squeezing his eyes tight.

What was he doing? Was he going to just lie here and _whine_ about it? Papyrus’ killer was _right there._ He couldn’t let this happen. Let them smugly carry on at their own pace like they’d won. He couldn’t let the human get away with this! He couldn’t let them _live_! They didn’t deserve it! He was the Great and Terrible Papyrus’ brother; wasn’t he?! Was he just going to let a _human_ get away with murder?

No, of course not.

Boss would be furious with him.

His eyes snapped open suddenly, flame crackling. Despite a searing protest, he stiffly turned his free hand. Palm up, to palm down. Even that small, simple maneuver was vexingly hard for him to pull off. It felt like he was tugging set glue apart from his joints. Yet, that seemingly simple maneuver was a lot less harmless however, when considered together with _what_ his magic had grabbed.

The boat tipped, flipping sideways. Threatening to capsize the whole vessel.

The human was already onto him. Standing up the very second the flame had lit his eye. Their shadow already looming over him. Dagger drawn.

_BAM!_

The sharp noise broke his concentration. He lost hold of the ship as the dagger slammed down inches behind his skull, pinning the hood of his coat to the bench seat. They spun, yanking the oar out of the speechless Riverperson’s hand. As the boat flipped sideways, water threatened to spill into the lower side.

The child climbed up the increasingly vertical boat. Dexterously scaling up the wooden planks. They threw a leg over the outer raised side, sitting on top of the boat. Putting their weight on the opposite side, they dug their hands into the rim and leaned, pulling back. Offsetting the balance.

Sans, who couldn’t move on his own, slipped with the natural gravity and almost plummeted into the waters below. He was snagged by his hood, dangling precariously over the current that was beginning to spill into the boat. Scarcely clutching onto the soul at his fingertips.

The Riverperson reacted a second later. The shadow obscuring their cloak seemed to fade and vanish. For a brief second, their robe seemed to be a free-falling empty rag. Then, as if it were yanked by an invisible force, the fabric danced upward like it was blown by the wind to the top of the boat. The shadow slowly reformed, once again taking shape of the Riverperson beneath the hood. The solitary figure standing upright on top of the boat.

The contrast between Frisk trying desperately to throw their inadequate weight over the capsizing boat to pull it back under control and the lunatic standing off to the side unhelpfully was almost comical. Without the Riverperson’s added effort, it seemed the boat would capsize entirely. Then, the shadow fully formed into a solid opaque blackness. The wooden boards creaked as weight was added a second later. The boat went crashing back into the water towards the heavier side. Rocking as it splashed back into an even balance.

Sans slammed back to the bench as the boat tilted unevenly, rolling the other way. The ghostly fabric trailed through the air back to the stern where the empty shape of the Riverperson’s hood sat once again at the back of the boat, slowly forming a black shadow into the solid shape of a figure. The child, on the other hand, couldn’t fly. They were half-hanging over the side, with only one arm and one leg in the dry side of the boat. They splashed, hacking and coughing, in the water as they pulled themselves fully back inside the hull, evening out the balance.

And he was _mad_ they hadn’t fallen off! It was _frustrating_ to see them unharmed. He didn’t care if he sunk the ship or drowned the whole lot of them! The fact they were still alive; pissed him off!

With what weak hold on the slipping magic he had left, he batted the boat. But only managed to catch the front half with his weakened, sloppy gesture. The vessel went spinning in circles through the waves. Steering shot, it veered towards the side of the river’s rocky cavern walls.

Frisk splashed in the puddle of water that had seeped into the boat’s floor, making it back onto their feet quickly. As they careened towards the dangerous edge, they rammed the handle of the stolen oar into the wall. The wooden handle scrapped along the uneven, damp stone. Ushering an unpleasant screeching noise to fill the cavern. The added leverage ceased their circular motion, eventually pulling the boat out of a spin and back under control. When things calmed down, they pushed heavily off from the cavern wall with the oar, drifting the boat back towards the middle of the stream.

“Tra la la,” The Riverperson sang flippantly, still slowly forming back into a solid opaque. Almost sarcastically adding, “What unusual currents we have today. Tri li li.”

Frisk looked down at the damaged oar. The handle gnawed down into splinters at the end. Several noticeable inches missing from its length. They awkwardly handed it back to its owner.

He took back the offered item, “Children break everything they touch, don’t they? Tre le le.”

The child clearly didn’t have a rebuttal, guiltily seeming to accept that statement as fact. They sighed deeply, turning around. Sight set on the troublesome skeleton crumpled on the bench.

Sans panted heavily into the wood, sprawled across his seat. One cheek smushed into the bench, covered in sweat. His free arm limply dangled over the side, resting in the standing water that had spilled into the boat. In fact, his whole body seemed rather limply slumped against the seat. But the soul was still clutched protectively against his chest. Mostly because his weight was pressing into it as he laid on top of that hand. What had been visible of his eyelights slowly faded, crackling away into static as the flame in his socket dwindled into nothing.

As his very magic fizzled into nothing.

Lifeless. Other than his slew of senseless ramblings that he uttered between growing bouts without breathing.  “k-k… I’ll… il… you,” He brokenly rasped, ignoring the trails of red that spilled between the fangs of his quivering jaw.

The child stepped over the bench, plopping down in the seat across from him. Slumped into their own wound. They frowned. “You’ll have to try harder,” They muttered stiffly, not looking into his empty sockets.

Sans kept mumbling, half delirious. Struggling with his breathing the whole time. Those empty threats the only signs of life he had left. “I-I… kill…”

“Try harder,” The emotionless voice repeated quietly, slouching over onto their knees. They held their hands together, tensely fiddling their fingers.

For the rest of the ride, they wouldn’t look at him, face blank, as if their mind were wandering several miles away, but they seemed to be listening well, nodding apathetically at every comment he muttered. Sans made several other death threats for the rest of the trip. But none he could make good on. His magic wasn’t coming back to him. He’d clearly spent whatever strength he was going to get on a wasted attempt.

The boat-ride concluded without a single soul mentioning how much lower in the river the water-logged boat now sat as it finally pulled to a stop, jostling as it hit the dock. Frisk stood quickly. Once again fixing their cloak to obscure their face. Not waiting for permission, they immediately dragged Sans out of the boat.

“Careful,” The flower cautioned as he was loaded onto the human’s back. Though, Sans got the impression it wasn’t talking about _him_. He had a feeling the weed was far more concerned with the human’s well-being than his.

He couldn’t do anything to stop them from forcing him along. He wasn’t strong enough. He didn’t have a choice, but, despite a failing function over his limbs, Sans did manage to keep the soul away from them, securely tucked close to his own chest. Flinching instinctively away from the human as they pulled his hand to adjust his position. Yet they didn’t pry or force his other hand away from him to use as leverage. They didn’t even try. Instead, they made do with just one arm thrown over their shoulder, angling their back so he fell into their hold. He sunk into their back heavily, not liking the malleable feel of his own form against theirs. It was likely an uncomfortable position for the child, especially with a wounded abdomen, but they continued along without a single complaint.

Unwillingly, he was dragged through Hotland, yet the temperature didn’t seem much different than what he was already feeling. Blistering fire. Searing heat. The child was sweating under the harsh conditions. He was… He didn’t know.

‘Falling apart’?

He was sure his vision gave out at times as the child’s feet trekked a path through the dirt. But every time he fell into blackness, he could feel that steady pulse between his fingers. Pounding near his own chest. The soul was beating. Not his soul. _His_ soul was a slow, faint thing, but he felt Boss’ soulbeat pick up urgently every time he fell to darkness. Only to slow down when he opened his eyes, as if it were trying to keep him awake. As if Boss were outraged and threw a fit every time he started to slip away without getting revenge. Scolding him.

Though that was also absolutely insane. He was losing it, surely. The soul was just a defenseless light, a feeble spark of life, without the body to control. Boss was gone. What he was holding onto was just a small, damaged piece of his remains. He should just drop it, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of it. It was the last piece of his little brother that he was ever going to see.

 “Flowey,” His thoughts were interrupted. The human stopped several paces away from a large, sheer white, lab door. “Stay out of sight. I’ll need you later.”

“Got it!” The flower squeaked, steeling itself. It nodded affirmatively, then quickly disappeared. Winding down beneath the sleeve of the human’s long shirt.

Once hidden, Frisk approached the door boldly. They rang the doorbell.

Nothing happened.

Face blank, never breaking a serious expression, they rang the doorbell again. Several times. Impatiently –with a child’s gusto. Sending an annoying tune echoing all over the vast space.

The door opened on its own.

There wasn’t a greeting or a surveillance check or any type of security measures to greet them. The door just _opened_ , revealing a dark space behind the door. None of the lights appeared to be on. The whole space was suspiciously quiet, suggesting no one was home.

It was obviously a trap.

Frisk strode through the open doorway without any hesitation. Sans would’ve thought it senseless if he hadn’t witnessed how far in advance the child tended to plan. Now he recognized they were fearlessly, not mindlessly, walking into the house. It was still a terrible idea. Even Sans wouldn’t want to just stroll in without outside backup.

They did realize where this was, didn’t they? It was the Lab! That place that monsters went in, but _never_ came out of. Or many went into, but a suspiciously high number never returned from. Captain Undyne had referred to this place as a hospital –and monsters _were_ sent here when they were unwell, but most monsters spoke of it in hushed whispers. This place had the kind of reputation that had many of the local inhabitants finding alternate routes just to steer clear of it entirely for fear they might be the building’s next victim.

They heard mumbling from the darkness. Scraping as claws slid along tile. A steady stream of nonsensical utterances from beyond. It started as a quiet, faint murmur in the distance. Then, a shadowy figure rapidly approached, “–tching one would hardly be easy. That vial should be put away before we head out! Also, I should check the charge on my –OH MY! Oh–” The scuttling figure screeched to a halt inches from colliding with them, muttering stiffly, “N-n-not who I was expecting,” as they looked the kid up and down in borderline awe.

The monster before them was a short yellow lizard in a stark white lab coat. A red and black striped shirt worn beneath it along with a dark skirt. Thick, red-tinted glasses adorned their face. They were stout and chubby, but despite her almost mullifyingly disarming appearance, Sans had grown used to being weary of this particular monster over the years. Before them stood Doctor Alphys herself, the only Royal Scientist to the King, and the rumored mastermind behind a score of disappearances. The very source of the locals’ fear.

She certainly didn’t look the part. The lizard tried to force a smile, an awkward gesture that crept up her snout revealing her many spaced fangs. “I mean –fuUUuu-f-f- _funny_ running into you again, here, of all places.”

“Excuse me, Doc,” Frisk stated dismissively. “I didn’t realize you had company coming.” Only stopping because she was blocking their path. Frisk side-stepped the lingering scientist and continued on. “I’ll be quick. I won’t bother you long.”

The lizard quickly stepped back to block their way again. Fidgeting her hands together rather nervously. “Not at all! S-stay! You’re always welcome my good, l-little _helper_. Yes,” The lizard adjusted a pair of thick spectacles resting across their face. “Didn’t think y- _you_ ’d be back so soon. I see you have brought a live specimen with you today? Fascinating stuff, live specimens. I’m sure I’ve always got room for more around here. What might have peaked your curiosity this time? A continued interest in natural materials as conductors? Biological thermodynamics, perhaps? Or a simple interest in anatomy?” The reptile took several eager steps forward, animatedly discussing the possibilities. Her advance pushing them back.

Frisk matched each enthusiastic advance by cautiously, subtly, backtracking an even amount. Not in an alarming way –in a casual one, curving as they went so they didn’t lose all the ground they already covered. Yet, ultimately, they were being steered into the far wall. Though, it was hard to tell if the excitable lizard was even aware she was doing it.

 “Anatomy can be a more complicated field than one might suspect, actually,” She rambled, “Species come in a wide range from bipedal to hexapedal or even octopedal. Some are solely solid, with clear distinction of vertebrae, and others fall under invertebrate or gelatinous. Sometimes you really don’t know what you’ve got until you start taking it apart. Then you’ll start finding all kinds of things. Obsolete binary systems, malnourished tendons, insufficient optical nerves. Honestly, there’s so much that could be improved. Did I mention my major wasn’t even in biology, by the way? I suppose that’s irrelevant, right??? After all, there’s only one _doctor_ in town, right?? Ufufufu,” She broke into a brief fit of unsettling laughter, snorting at her own joke. “Put on a white lab coat and the whole town shows up, I swear. Anyway, come along,” She ushered, strapping on thick, black, rubber gloves over her tiny hands as she approached. “I have plenty of time right now. We can even dissect it on the main floor! No better time to learn than now.”

With nowhere else to retreat to, Frisk leaned back as the scientist got uncomfortably close, dodging naturally to the side as she reached past them to the table covered in disorganized papers that they’d nearly collided with. She began sorting through the notes in the darkness.

Had they just said they wanted to _dissect_ him?!

“No, thank you,” Frisk announced plainly, taking one exceptionally large step to the side that put them at a fair distance away from the eager scientist once her back was turned. That caution not displayed in their emotionlessly dead voice, keeping up a relaxed ruse. “I’m just passing through today.” They eased around her, quickly walking straight past the Doctor.

The lizard spun quickly when she realized they were walking away from her again.

“A-a-actually,” The lizard interrupted, claws twitching nervously. She tried to catch their sleeve, but missed. “There was an experiment I c-could really use your assistance on,” She begged, trailing them, “W-what do you say? Think you could help me out with something?”

“I’m busy today, Doc,” Frisk dismissed plainly, never slowing.

He could hear claws scraping across the tile after them as the hunched figure tried to keep their pace. “Oh, you’ll find this one really fascinating. I must insist. Come take a look. No –wait- a-actually why don’t you _wait here_? I’ll go fetch it for you,” She suggested, nearly jogging to keep up.

“I’m not interested,” They excused in an emotionless voice that lacked any sort of gentleness to the dismissal. Not even turning to look at the scientist as they shot her down.

Alphys didn’t stop following. Trying to get in front of them, but her stumpy legs couldn’t outrun a child. “It’s one of my e-earlier experiments. I can get them to stop by,” She rambled, trying to catch their attention. “Robotics. I had the design for it going since I was just a girl. It’s sort of been a work in progress since its host has been exceptionally picky in–n-nevermind. Point is; imagine a living, freely thinking, adaptable robot. Completely functional,” She panted, huffing to keep up with them. Seemingly trying frantically to keep them there, “I’ve even added s-several of my own additions to the original concept to improve its functionality over th–”

Even with the extra weight Frisk was carrying, Doctor Alphys began to fall behind. She probably would’ve been able to keep pace better if she talked less. As it was, half her air was being used to spout useless information at them in a constant stream of sentences. The scrape of claws pursuing them quickly died down, replaced by huffs as the lizard became exhausted.

Frisk had the right idea. They didn’t say a word, conserving their air as they hurried along. Not so fast that they appeared as if they were _running_ from the scientist, but more like they were speed-walking away as they outright ignored her. Exactly as they’d said; they seemed _busy_. Almost like they were late for an appointment. As if lost in their own thoughts, they continued on. However, even though they weren’t sprinting down the halls, their pace seemed faster than before. Sans wasn’t sure if it was just the lack of snow that spurred their pace, but he felt like they were legitimately racing towards an undefined finish line. Trying to escape despite the otherwise oddly chummy atmosphere. The scientist was already too far away to stop them now.

Then, he heard the good doctor cuss behind them. Followed by fumbling.

Frisk went several more paces, then came to a rather abrupt halt.

Suddenly, the light of a bullet split the darkness, crashing into the tile just in front of their feet. Where they _would_ have stood. Sans could see the impact even in the darkness. The smoldering embers marred the tile, staining it a darkened ash. A slow sizzling wisp rose from the near miss.

“Stay, dammit!” Alphys huffed, frustrated, with an alarmingly abrupt personality switch. All niceties abruptly set aside as she held a handgun pointed their way. Apparently, not taking kindly to the idea of them leaving. “Let’s put it this way,” She huffed, “I know y-you lied to me. It’s a shame, really. As someone with shared interests; we could’ve been friends. Peers even.”

Frisk turned slowly, robotically stiff, to look back at them. Not making any sudden moves. Sans was relieved this new angle no longer made him the sole target of the doctor’s custom pistol.

“But I’m going to figure out what you know. I already know your little secret,” The mad scientist took a step towards them, gun raised.

Frisk took a careful step back, sliding their foot cautiously away. Putting distance between them as the lizard ranted on.

“I know _what_ you are. Ufufufufu! Yes. That’s right, I’ve been watching you, ‘little helper’. I saw you on the monitors, _human_ ,” She taunted, waving the gun. “Now, you don’t think I could let such a perfect specimen waltz right out of my lab, do you? Do you have any idea what I could accomplish with such prime materials?”

“I don’t have time for this,” the child stated flatly. Dismissively. As if they weren’t dealing with a life or death situation right now. After all, it was only the second time they’d had a weapon waved at them today.

They took another step back.

“Make time,” Alphys insisted, pursuing them cautiously. “This is important. I know _you_ can understand why I can’t just let you go. You might even be intrigued! You have an interest in souls, too! Don’t you? Did you know I worked with them before? You did, right? That’s why you came to ask me about them,” She reasoned, inching closer. “But did you know _what_ I did?”

The human didn’t answer, staring blankly back. They cautiously slid their foot back again.

Alphys stepped forward, gun trained on them again, “The King asked me to work with _human souls_. He even supplied the materials! He wanted me to try and make another human soul out of the ones he already had. Ridiculous, right? But you know the King –No, maybe you don’t –Anyway, I started experimenting. Searching for a vessel that could hold a soul. I tried everything; plants, objects, crafted containers, and then, finally, _monsters_.” The ground shook. Faintly. But it did shake, rumbling the clutter along the floor. Doctor Alphys paid it no mind, continuing their rant as they eased forward, “D-dying ones, at first. Couldn’t waste the good stuff without a control group. Do you know what happened when I put an extract of human determination into a fallen monster’s soul?

“ _They came back to life,”_ She breathed in awe. The ground shook again. More forcefully, as if it rumbled through the whole building.

Frisk crept back, but Alphys was too caught in her rant to notice.

“The biggest scientific discovery that we’ve ever seen! A cure for death itself! But w-well…” She mulled hesitantly, consumed with her own story, “It was only the first batch. There were some, uh, _complications_ with the first batch.” _Bam!_ Again. The ominous rumbling was getting louder. “S-something was wrong with the formula and there were some unintended _side-effects._ H-however! That doesn’t change the fact that it happened! With some tweaking –we could be immortal!” She stepped forward eagerly.

“I told the King. Do you know what he did? _He called the experiment a failure._ He took them all back –confiscated every last human soul in my possession.” _BAM!_ It rang through the halls with metallic resounding. Echoing around the darkness, but Sans was certain that noise had been very, very close. “With initial results like those; I knew my theory was possible with enough testing, but he wouldn’t let me try again. King Asgore was going to shut me down with the other failures, but you –if I had _your_ soul. I can show him that it could be done right! The experiment isn’t flawed! It can be done correctly! T-t-then he’ll have to give me–”

_CRASH!_ The wall exploded inward. Throwing debris of metal and structural support into the room beyond. Dislodging heavy chunks of foundation. The catch was; as much as they’d shifted down the hall during their conversation, _Alphys_ was standing in front of the hole, not them. As a figure exploded into the room, the scientist got knocked over and buried beneath the raining debris. Her rant cut short.

“OHHHH NOOOOooo!” A popular, charismatic voice announced from the formed entranceway. Furiously chiding, “You did _not_ just call me in the middle of a screening! Alphys!!”

Mettaton.

 Fuck! That was possibly a _worse_ turn of events than running into Alphys. Mettaton was a sick fuck who didn’t even bother to hide it away in a lab. He’d built a goddamn monument to his fetishes and _broadcast_ his brutal killing sprees on live television. Every lower levelled monster was absolutely terrified of him. Sensibly, too. His hotel was infamous for snatching passerbys off the walkways to be used as ‘special guests’. His resort of death was the only place avoided even more-so than the lab, except by the rich, greedy kind who enjoyed shows with dust for confetti. Mettaton was the peak of corruption. The only reason he got away with it was because… the robot had been on air so long; he had a higher LoV than even _Undyne._ No one really could stop him. What the hell was he doing here? In this lab in the middle of nowhere? He shouldn’t ever have to worry about running into that abomination outside of the MTT Resort!

Sans tried to sink even _lower_ on the human’s back to hide behind them. It was a natural reaction. He was starting to feel rather small around such a collection of big players. Undyne, then Boss, and now Alphys, Mettaton, _and_ the human in one room? What was this? Even if he miraculously managed to get away from Frisk now, he’d just get swept up in something equally bad!

“You hunk of junk!” Alphys snarled from beneath them. “When I said come; I didn’t mean through the wall!”

“I wasn’t the one who set the homing beacon with a linear line of travel!” The robot shot back, pointing to the blinking light at the top of his perfectly square head.

“It’s a guide to the fastest route. You could have used _any_ of your other processors to avoid the walls! Use the door like any normal person!”

“HOMING. BEACON. ALPHYS.” The diva stressed, dramatically pointing to the blinking light. “ _Darling,_ you _built it_ for the fastest route!”

Frisk didn’t stick around for their argument. The very _second_ the wall had exploded, Frisk had spun, darting away. Sans bobbed as they ran down the rest of the hall, the argument becoming fainter behind them. Apparently, the human didn’t want to be in a room with such big players either.

It was only at this part of their argument, however, that the bickering pair of monsters realized their prey was getting away.

“Damn junk heap! They’re running!” Doctor Alphys screamed, gesturing to the lone figure now out-right sprinting down the hall as the lizard struggled to wrestle herself out of the debris that pinned her to the floor. “Help me up!” She commanded urgently, “Don’t let them get away!”

“Well, _which_ is it?” The moody robot said snappily, frustratingly dropping the debris they’d started to pick up.

“UGGHH _HHH!”_ The scientist let out the irritated screech. “You useless –I’ll do it myself!”

Frisk thudded down the hallway, making great headway while the other two argued. Yet they didn’t head for the broken wall. Towards the series of holes that led to certain freedom. Instead, they ran the opposite way, veering for a sleek, metal door set into the wall, clearly locked by a red keypad next to the frame.

The gun fired off behind them. Blasts of light flashed through the dim chamber again, separated by several booming bursts that thundered through the air around them.

Frisk didn’t try to dodge these ones. They all missed, crackling past them on either side. The bullets buzzing harmlessly by with an electric property similar to Undyne’s fearsome spears as Alphys failed to aim her gun properly from the floor’s angle. Not that she was that great of a shot to begin with.

Still, being shot at wasn’t ideal.

Sans was essentially a motionless target and Frisk had a _dagger._ Not exactly an ideal match-up against a gun.

Frisk practically face planted the wall with the key pad, running into it at full force. Colliding into the wall with a metallic _thunk._ Sans was jostled and almost thrown from their back with the recoil. They held him on, proceeding to type a rather long password into the keypad.

“Why do you think I called you here? Do something!” Alphys commanded her creation, throwing a piece of debris to ping off his metallic casing. “You useless scrap metal!” Raging, she shuffled enough in her hold to pull a remote from the pocket of her ensnared lab coat, hitting some buttons.

“Well, Alphys, dear,” A thin patience began, “What do you expect me to–” his screen of red and yellow flashing displays lit up in fully crimson, “–S y s t e m  O v e r r i d e–” a not so charismatic voice announced. The Doctor furiously clicked away at the buttons, “ –D e p l o y i n g  P r o j e c t i l e s–” Mettaton narrated robotically, stiffly lowering his arms their direction. The delivery lacking any of the celebrity’s usual fanfare. Rockets spewed forth from beneath the hollow cylinders of his wrists, speeding towards them.

_beep._

They fell through the metallic door into a heap in the cramped room beyond. Sans slipped off the child’s back since he wasn’t being held on anymore. Wincing against the internal pain lacing through his bones as he struggled to clutch the precious soul in his fist. He blinked blurrily at their surroundings. This wasn’t escape. It was clearly a dead end! The child had run them into a small, sealed room with _no exit_!

No. The room fuzzed into view.

 It was an elevator. A strangely _familiar_ elevator. Despite the high-tension and urgent demand of their situation, Sans remained uselessly sprawled across the floor, half delirious, exactly where he’d landed. Unable to move anything at all –and even _that_ disability seemed oddly familiar to him at this moment, too.

Frisk wasn’t distracted. The second he rolled off and freed them of his weight, they scrambled for the control panel. Crawling. Not even bothering to get fully onto their feet to hit the door close button. The door dinged shut just in the nick of time, locking the two of them in a pitch black darkness. Explosions rumbled threateningly from the other side of the door –even denting the steel _inwards_ as the missiles impacted the only metal sheet between them and a fiery doom. The whole room shook precariously. Trembling beneath the pounding bombardment.

Then, it went quiet.

Still.

Nothing in the ensuing silence but a low, groaning, heavy creak resounding throughout the locked chamber.

Then-

–they dropped.

_Skkkreeeee!_

Thrown into a violent freefall, they plummeted down the shaft at a rumbling velocity. Sans, whose body was beyond any form of function, couldn’t even curl around Boss’ soul protectively to brace for the coming impact.

Yet Frisk hadn’t left the elevator’s control panel. He saw the silver knife spin out of their cloak as they smashed the handle into a compartment along the controls.

Glass shattered in the background along with all the other screeching noise tearing at his mind. They were falling so fast, the human floated away from the panel. Holding their hands on the roof, the child _kicked,_ rather than pulled, the lever behind the emergency glass.

They crashed back to the floor heavily with a whiplash-inducing intensity. Sans smacked into the floor, but he wasn’t sure if the adrenaline spared him the pain or if he’d gone so completely numb by this moment that he couldn’t feel anything anymore. Broken glass was shattered all over the floor inside the elevator around him. He was surely laying on _some._

But he felt nothing.

Not his arms nor his legs, his back, or his bones. He stared empty sockets at the roof. The silent darkness filled with the gasps and shaky breaths of its surviving passengers. Slowly, the lights rattled on inside the death box. The power returned moments later, flickering on. Frisk huddled close to the control panel, jamming the elevator down button. Tapping it quickly and constantly until they finally began a slow, steady crawl down towards their destination.

“Please,” The flower pleaded dizzily, popping out of the human’s collar. Clearly shaken by the event. “Tell me that wasn’t part of the plan?”

“It was the fastest way down,” Frisk answered absently.

“ _Frisk_ , seriously?!” Flowey cried in a mixture of outrage and concerned scolding.

Yet the child wasn’t really listening to them. Distractedly, they cautiously backed away from the controls, head tilted up towards the ceiling as if they were listening intently. Expectantly. Their mind working out something else entirely. Not truly nor fully present for the conversation they held with the flower. They were still tense. The lights rattled, flickering occasionally, as the elevator plunged into the basement’s depths. They seemed to reach the bottom fine, but just as the doors started to open, the lights rattled out. The power shut down, turned off by an outside source. Their daring escape had been robbed of an exit.

The door had only just started to open.

“Flowey! The door!” Frisk called urgently. Dashing to the entrance, they began kicking the jammed door with their feet, prying the sliver open. Wedging themselves into the small space while using their whole body as a jack to push the frozen doors apart. Flowey didn’t need an explanation. The vines underneath the sprout began to bulge as the flower’s roots seemed to grow out of nowhere. With their added help, the two of them forced the doors open.

Frisk rolled out the door first, the metal doors cinching closed a bit more without their added strength. They spun hastily, reaching back in for Sans. “Pass him to me.”

Flowey, struggling to hold the door open solo, sent a stray vine back towards the motionless skeleton. It wound around his furred hood, securing a hold. The plant weakly dragging him towards the exit, exerting most of their strength elsewhere. Frisk’s wandering hands grabbed hold as soon as they could, yanking the plump skeleton through the narrow crevice of doorway quickly. Flowey untangled themselves shortly after. The doors snapped dangerously back into a thin sliver behind them.

Sprawled across the floor, Frisk studied their passenger for a brief second, checking him over. He was perfectly motionless and almost entirely lifeless. Even his grip around the precious soul had gone slack.

They reached for it.

He twitched, but he couldn’t keep it from them in his dismal condition. He couldn’t turn away. Everywhere felt so heavy. He was rasping out shallow breaths. Scarcely finding the opportunity to breathe. He couldn’t even curl his hand around the precious soul to keep it safe.

They didn’t take it from him.

 Instead, they recurled his fingers around the light. “Hold onto it,” Their soft voice warned, “Or I’ll have to take it from you.”

Hell if they would! He growled at them threateningly. Territorially. A low, deep sound rumbling in the back of his throat with the sickening bile.

Frisk responded by yanking him up from the floor, not even allowing a brief break to catch their breath after that disastrous ride. The child promptly propped Sans back onto their back. The seven year old once again piggybacking the fully grown adult. It was offensive that their similarities in height allowed it, even if he was slightly bigger than them. Again, only one arm was thrown over their shoulder for support. His second hung limply to his side, holding onto the faint reddish light. Most of his weight was pressed heavily into their angled back.

They stood, rising into the darkness, footsteps seeming to echo in the massive vacant space as they stepped into it together. An even more permeating darkness filling this space than the last. Sans felt like he could sense the barest hint of something moving right out of their vision in the depths of the darkness that they couldn’t see.

Something large. Something prowling.

_Ding._

The lights on the elevator pinged back on. Flashing a sliver of its golden light suddenly into the tiled chamber. Abolishing the shadows directly in front of them. Leaving only their lone silhouettes stretching into the darkness.

There was nothing there.

Yet that was only more discomforting. He was certain something had been there.

The metal doors snapped shut, obscuring the land in darkness once more. Leaving them with false shadows creeping back in as the elevator was called back to the top floor. The doctor certainly wouldn’t be happy to find her prey missing from the metal cage.

Frisk barely stopped. Used only a quick glance around the poorly lit chambers to get their bearings. “I’m going this way,” They announced in their emotionless voice. “Flowey go that way. I need copper wire, a long, thick nail, and a thin copper pipe –check the sink piping. Meet me at the intersection of Hall C and 9.”

“Alright!” The flower agreed, quickly winding off into the darkness on the opposite side. They readjusted the burden on their back and stalked off to the left. They took off down the hallways as the power seemed to ominously rumble back on throughout the entire facility. The power springing to life behind them.

Sans was shaken as Frisk sprinted down the hallway, panting. Quiet footsteps echoing around the empty rooms as they tapped their way across the tiles. Despite the many doors they were passing on the sides; they seemed determined to go in one, single direction. Yet they didn’t get very far before they heard the telling _ding_ of the elevator door behind them.

Their pursuit was coming.

This hallway was a straight shot for some time. The Doctor would see them the second she turned the corner. _If_ she went this way.

Frisk didn’t wait around to risk that chance. The human burst into the first door on their right. The room was filled with a foul stench. They quietly half-shut the door behind them, so a wide stream of light still shone into the room from the hall. The bulb outside flickered with a dull buzz from the old, shoddy power grid. The human quickly spun the two of them into the shadows next to the door, hiding between a large cupboard placed along the wall and the stream of light that seeped into the chamber. There was a bucket and some other cluttered boxes gathered nearby. They pressed Sans’ back into the wall, holding them both as flat and low against the surface as they could.

They pulled the black cape over them.

In the flickering lights and shadowed silhouettes, they probably looked like more junk gathered on the floor beneath the child’s cloak. Reduced to a misshapen blob of fabric. Sans certainly had the stiffness of an inanimate object. However, he was wheezing. Croaking out noisy, shallow breaths.

 “Shh!” The child motioned to him wordlessly, holding a finger over their lip just like they had that day in Waterfall, pressing him into the muck and grass. But he had no control over how he sounded anymore. He had very little control of anything. However, the gesture wasn’t so much telling him to be quiet as it was telling him they _wanted_ him to be quiet; as the motion was immediately followed by them clamping a small hand over his fangs to stifle his breathing.

The soul was sandwiched between them, pulse pounding.

Sans’ face crumpled into distaste instantly at the contact. Sneering hatefully. He didn’t want to be touched by the likes of _them_. He didn’t have much control over them dragging him around, but he’d be damned if he let them get chummy with him now.

They might be in this situation together, but he was in it because of them _._ They started this. They caused this. All he had wanted to do was die –and he _couldn’t._ They’d said themself they wouldn’t _allow_ him to. Hell, they _admitted_ it was their fault when Boss asked. Dr. Alphys said a human soul could bring a monster back from the dead. _He_ should be dead ten times over!

Were _they_ keeping him here? For what reason? _Why_? Why had they reduced his little brother into empty bones and a dangerously fragile flickering light? Was it supposed to be for him –To ‘keep him here’? –To ‘get rid of him’? Which was it? It was contradictory! Boss didn’t deserve to get dragged into this insanity! _Their_ insanity! None of it even made sense! Sans had never asked for this! He’d rather be dust than witness any of this to begin with!

He bit them. As hard as he could. His fangs trembled in the flesh. He wished the bite had more force behind it, but at least the attack was enough to draw red. The unpleasant substance leaked all over his mouth. Between his fangs. Across his tongue.

They barely flinched. He caught the slightest wince below their left eye as they stared back at him with an emotionlessly blank expression. No matter what he did, how hostile he was, they weren’t afraid of him. They didn’t fight back, cry, or get angry. They offered _no_ protest to defend or condemn themselves at _any_ of his retaliations –which left his raw anger _woefully unsatisfied_.

Did they think they deserved it? Did they not care that they deserved it?

He dug his teeth even deeper in, grinding the joints, but received not even a single peep.

It wasn’t fair! How was he supposed to get revenge against a kid like this?

Sans heard the fervent scraping of claws along tile, slithering down the hall. Followed by a squeaking wheel, signifying the Doctor’s mindless robotic weapon was in tow. A dangerous pair. The sound grew closer and closer. Their noise exceptionally loud in the otherwise still silence.

“Human! Where are you, human?” Doctor Alphys called, “Frisk, surely you understand the scientific breakthrough we’re on the verge of! Wouldn’t you want to see it, too? Help b-bring monsters back to life?” She taunted. “I just need to borrow your soul. I wouldn’t break it like the other one we tested. Oh no. Yours is far too valuable for any risky studies like that. You’d be s-safe and sound. You could change _everything_ for us.” She pleaded too sweetly. “Come out! This doesn’t have to be hard.”

Frisk pressed themselves further into Sans, leaning even closer towards the wall as the claws scraped past the hallway just outside their door. And in that instant, even without an expression, he could tell they didn’t want to be caught. The way they clung closer to him. The way they turned their head _away_ from the door, listening instead of watching. Then, it clicked. He suddenly understood. It was written in the way they behaved; not their expression. Not their words.

They were _afraid_ of getting caught by the doctor.

Heh.

And he wanted to fuck it up for them. He, _so badly_ , wanted to ruin this for them like they’d ruined everything for him. He wanted to make them feel fear. To suffer. To get his revenge. They deserved it! He didn’t care if the doctor caught and tortured him –as long as she did it to the human, too.

Unfortunately, he didn’t realize until now, teeth deep in human flesh, that he’d basically gagged himself. His breathing stifled into a non-existent hush. He couldn’t move either. He tried to send any tendril of strength down to his fingers or his feet. All he had to do was knock over the bucket, kick the clutter, or _something_. Cause a commotion. But he didn’t have a single ounce of strength left in his entire body. Every aching piece of him was sluggishly limp. Dragged around like a doll by the child. He was trapped against the wall where they’d left him like an object hidden from display.

The ominous, echoing scrape of talons was passing them by.

He needed to make some noise, quick! Before the opportunity passed! He squeezed his eyes shut, straining. Trying to call up any scrap of strength from that bottomless pit of energy he’d had before. But there was nothing there. It was all gone. Wherever he’d been pulling magic from before was just as broken as the rest of him. Useless! He was so fucking useless! What would Boss say to him?

He’d call him lazy. He’d say he didn’t really try. He’d say he hadn’t put his whole effort in and demand more. ‘Try harder,’ The kid’s emotionless voice taunted from the boat ride.

Eyes slammed shut, he dug for whatever effort he could give.

Nothing but a pitiful whine escaped between his teeth.

It was plenty.

 It may have been muffled, but it was still a solid, distinct noise. It seemed to echo through the halls. Frisk whipped their head around at the sound. Their face a blank slate, but their reaction indicated surprise, staring at him as if they couldn’t believe he was still capable of noise.

Truthfully, he hadn’t thought he was either. Yet he glared vengefully back beneath a furrowed brow, darkened sockets still empty. Body still stiff.

They grit their teeth, pressing in, almost reluctantly, _harder._ They shoved their hand so far into his mouth, they forced his jaw apart as they pressed his head back against the wall. Gagging him even further and scratching cuts down their hand on his sharp fangs. Sans winced, glaring down at them with empty sockets, jaw pried open, trapped in their painful hold. Frisk squeezed their eyes shut, avoiding his gaze. They dropped their head into his shoulder, huddling closer as they pressed them both even _flatter_ against the wall.

The door swung open.

Claws scrapped the floor next to them.

Past the narrow slit at the edge of the cloak, where it didn’t quite cover the both of their bulk, Sans saw the yellow lizard peek suspiciously into the room. Her thick red glasses catching the light at just the right angle to make them shine. Head slowly turning as she inspected the room.

She stopped as her eyes caught sight of something.

“Oh. You’re still here,” Alphys stated disappointedly. She wasn’t talking to them. The scientist was addressing someone –or something- else.

Sans’ soul seized up at the mere mention of what she was implying. Someone was _in the room with them_. Someone capable of speech. He hadn’t even seen them. Or heard them. Or sensed them. Would they tell her where they were? How long had they been watching?

No response came.

He struggled to follow the scientist’s gaze to the center of the room, but he couldn’t see what she was looking at past the cloak. He strained his other senses instead. Thinking. Listening. Trying to place what felt so horribly wrong in this situation.

The place smelled foul. He had noticed that when they’d first come in, but hadn’t thought much of it before. Now he was desperately trying to place what that gag-worthy smell was. It was far beyond the stench of poor hygiene. Something about it was downright vulgar. As he strained his ears as well, he started to hear it. The slow, broken gasps of the person they were sharing a room with. The sound was so shallow, Sans was only hearing it _now,_ after focusing all his senses on it _._ Now that he was intently aware of his uncomfortable surroundings. They sounded like they were in pain. Incredible pain.

“I’ll come back for you later. Quiet down.” Alphys huffed an annoyed sound at having her very important search interrupted. Then, stalked angrily out the door behind her. The scrape of claws and the sound of a single squeaky wheel disappeared down the hallway. The missed opportunity departed deeper into the depths of the lab. Sans was too shocked speechless to make any further noises to call them back.

He was suddenly having second thoughts about drawing attention to themselves in the first place.

Frisk took advantage of his slack jaw to remove their hand, but remained pressed close for several long minutes. Alert. The room was perfectly silent, other than the infrequent, _pitiful_ gasps of their shared company, but the Doctor never came back.

Finally, the child let out a long breath they were holding in near his ear. The cloak was pulled away as the human stood up from the wall, quietly tip-toeing around the clutter to the door. Leaving Sans behind on the floor, propped up against the wall, head slumped into his shoulder.

He could see the center of the room now.

Now, the light from the opened door was wide enough that it revealed the previously shrouded device clearly. Illuminated by the hall, the flickering light reflected off the sharp edges of its metallic surface. It was a long, metal table with a single, central support. Nearby, was a carted tray with several tools on top, a large adjustable light that was currently turned off, and a standing IV drip sporting a dirty plastic bag. It was some sort of operating table with thick, black, leather straps for its unfortunate patient.

And it was occupied.

The unlucky soul had been bound down by the firm leather straps and left in the darkness. That ghastly smell that flooded the room certainly couldn’t be coming from a _closed_ wound. A pronged device was latched to the table, pulling taut flaps of loose skin that had been peeled off the victim. A steady stream of dust trickled off the edge of the table, like the slow fall of an hourglass ticking by, supporting his theory that the occupant was gravely injured. Though he couldn’t know to what extent from his current angle on the floor. It was as if they’d started to get an operation and then the good doctor had gotten bored and walked out on them halfway through. The dissection left unfinished.

Sans felt dread creep down his spine.

Frisk peeked their head out into the hallway, checking both directions.

It must have been clear because they closed the door and stepped back into the room with much less caution.

The child circled the table in a wide arc, studying the victim from a safe distance like a curious animal. But the patient didn’t seem to thrash or show any other capabilities of being hostile in any way. After all, they sounded about as good as Sans did now, barely holding onto every shaking breath.

Frisk drew the knife.

As they approached the table, it was clear it was stationed too high for someone of their stature to have a comfortable reach. The child fluently kicked around the base of the single supporting pillar with one leg, keeping their dagger cautiously ready. Their foot found a pedal.

The table jerked to its lowest setting. Tilting the table forwards with the sudden adjustment.

The patient sagged forward in their binds, wheezing a strangled sound of air through their throat. But the binds held them in place. The new angle allowing Sans to see entirely more of them than he wanted to see.

Their chest was completely sliced open with a straight, clean cut, white-furred skin held back by the prongs along the side, putting all of the monster’s organs on display for anyone to see. The accruing dust poured out of the gaping hole eagerly with the new tilted angle, dumping a load of dust off the table. Their head sagged loosely forward, unnaturally. Bouncing two long ears around their shoulders. He wasn’t sure if a tendon had been cut that made it impossible or if they were simply too weak to lift their head on their own, but the rest of their body –or what was left of it– tensed at the sudden movement. Straining against the black leather straps holding them down.

He knew this patient. And even with the clear evidence that they were incapacitated; Sans’ first instinct was to scuttle way from them.

It was Dogaressa. Bound to the table and ripped apart. He wasn’t sure where her other arm went, but she had neither now. Reduced to nothing but legs, an open torso, and a limp or broken neck. He knew she was a high level, but even she shouldn’t have the hit points to survive like this. She should be dust, but for some reason she was still here. And judging by the mangled breathing, she was very much alive. Very much conscious. Though the sheer amount of dust would signify she was presently falling down.

Frisk turned their attention to the IV bag, pinching the plastic between their fingers to peer at the sickly colored substance within. As they studied the bag’s contents, a slight frown touched their expression. “I gave her too much information,” They muttered hollowly.

They yanked the bag roughly off the supporting pole, spun, and wound the IV’s tube around their arm, reeling it in. With a yank, Frisk ripped the end harshly out of Dogaressa’s neck. She whined, but the sound gurgled off into something abnormal. Unnatural. The child tore the tubing out of the bag as well, dropping the cord unceremoniously to the floor. They swiftly stepped over several wires between the station to stand directly in front of the table. Dagger drawn.

That unnatural, guttural sound was quickly shaping into a feral snarl. The sound was downright animalistic even though he’d always considered Dogaressa one of the more cultured hounds. The table was rattling, even though the patient was clearly bound down. Even though the patient shouldn’t _need_ to be bound down considering the condition he’d just seen her in. A thrashing sound rose through the room that Sans could hear, but couldn’t see past the cloak blocking his way.

The silver edge sped in mercilessly without an ounce of hesitation. Three quick swipes. Neck, torso, stomach.

They tore her apart. The patient spilled through the binds as Dogaressa fell off the table into a pile of dust at the child’s feet.

However, witnessing this horror didn’t even slow them. Following a constant internal agenda, Frisk trampled the dust as they made their way to the sink, cut the top of the IV bag open with their knife, and poured its contents down the drain, leaving the water running long after it had been drained of the vile substance. Thoroughly erasing all the evidence. They left the empty garbage in the sink as they began riffling through the cabinets set along the walls with little care to how much noise they were making. They made short work of it.

After raiding all the cupboard drawers, they’d only gathered half of what they were searching for. Frisk walked back to the central station with only a single, small, rolled wad of cotton cloth in their hand. They continued their search in the wheelable cart next to the operating table, rummaging through all the surgical equipment on hand, too. From below the tray, they retrieved a partially filled vial of a clear liquid. Frisk popped the cap off the top and sniffed, recoiling jerkily at an apparent disagreeable smell.

But, it must have been what they were looking for.

Holding the bottle in one hand, they tugged up their shirt with the other, inspecting the wound to their abdomen briefly. It was hard to tell past the red seeping out of the wound, but it must have been about a fist wide, yet a narrower cut overall. The severe staining made it look much worse. Though it was hard to make an entire hole through the stomach look worse than it already was. Leaning slightly back, they tipped the vial and poured it over the leaking hole.

“Ngh!” They immediately –violently– flinched, staggering backwards. Bumping into the cart and then the table. The child tried to hold themselves up, propped against the dusty edge of the operating table, but their feet slipped out from under them. They went down in a rain of clattering tools and other objects.

Panting, they dragged themselves backwards through the dust. Propping themselves up against the single base of the operating table, their back faced towards him. Giving themselves what little privacy they could.

It wasn’t much. Sans still caught the gist of what they were doing.

Glaring determinedly at the wound, the human stuffed their shirt into their mouth like a gag. Refusing to be beaten. Then, they gradually dumped the rest of the vial over the hole, kicking and tensing involuntarily the whole way. A set expression resisting the pain that tried to creep across their face. Once the vial was empty, they set it aside, reaching for the wad of cotton cloth they’d dropped. They unwound it, wrapping the gauze around their torso as best they could themselves. With the limited amount of bandages they had, they only managed to get a thin lair covering the seeping red wound.

There wasn’t enough supplies for the fresh bite-mark on their hand either. Sans was pretty sure their shaking hands hadn’t wrapped the gauze nearly tightly enough, but they hauled themselves back onto their feet immediately after dropping their shirt back over Boss’ wound. Hands still shaking. Breath still short.

They made their way back over to him.

The shadow of the cloak approached, hovering over him, showing little of that glimpse of weakness he’d just seen. “Time to go,” The soft, certain voice announced, pulling him away from the wall by the front of his jacket.

Sans winced as his head was forced away from the wall. Feeling like a growing suction was pulled and snapped. That theory actually solidified when he actually heard the liquefied snapping sound shortly after. It was a good thing he was so numbed beyond pain he couldn’t feel anything anymore. He didn’t want to know what leaving a section of your liquefied head behind and smeared against the wall felt like.

“…Sorry,” They said, but left the apology open ended. Never specifying what for. For pulling too hard? For pressing his head against the wall earlier? For dragging him around? For doing this to him in the first place? For killing his little brother, who he’d die for, in front of him while knowing he was incapable of fighting back?

Sorry wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Sorry didn’t quite cut it.

He didn’t have the energy to sneer at them.

 They pulled a leather sleeve over one shoulder, using the wall to slide him back onto their back. He slumped back into his position unable to complain. Even though he felt entirely devoid of strength, completely numb and limp, he was still holding onto the precious soul in his dangling fist. That part was effortless. He wasn’t even consciously holding onto it anymore. It was simply _sticking_ to his palm. The closed fingers were beginning to deform, melding together into the shape of a curled fist over the fragile light.

He couldn’t pull them apart anymore.

Frisk carried him to the door, peeking their head into the hallway first. They glanced both ways, then took off down towards the elevator. They circled back, then headed down the same hallway Flowey had originally gone down. They passed many dark, empty rooms along the way. Sprinting down the hall as quietly as they could. They wound through a maze of dark and creepy passageways, spinning or circling over their previous path enough times to get lost. But they didn’t need a map. Sans had a feeling Frisk knew exactly where they were going. They knew exactly what they were doing. He could tell they were intimately familiar with these halls. Throughout the duration of their odd, erratic path; they never once ran into Alphys even though she was wandering these halls, too. Eventually, their steady pace slowed as they approached another intersection deep in the complex. The flower was waiting beneath the single, dully fuzzing light. His yellow petals stark against the darkness.

“There you are!” The squeak called relieved. “I was getting worried about you.”

“Good to see you, too,” Frisk greeted emotionlessly, yet Sans felt a hint of tenseness relax out of the shoulders he was slumped over. “Did you get it?”

“Yup!” The flower glanced behind them at a small pile on the floor near the wall, winding back towards the listed items. “It’s all here.”

“Good,” Frisk walked over to the supplies, gathering them off the floor. The child checked them over as they slipped them away behind their cloak and into their inventory. “Thank you, Flowey,” The dull voice said appreciatively. “I know it wasn’t easy. I’d be lost without you.”

The flower blushed slightly at the praise, “O-Of course! Partners, right?”

“Partners,” the soft voice promised fondly.

Flowey seemed to bob happily, yet he eagerly changed the topic. “How’s he holding up?” He asked, tilting his head to look past the child. His face seemed to pale shortly after the sentence left his mouth. Immediately regretting his decision to ask.

Frisk glanced over their shoulder at the empty sockets crumpled into their back. Feeling the downright _vacant_ presence of the melting bones slumped against them. “How are you holding up, lazybones?” They asked in their emotionless voice, even though it should have been obvious at a glance what the answer was.

They took off walking down the hall not waiting for an answer. Not stopping to take a break even though the rate of their breathing betrayed how tired the child really was. Even though their legs were unstable by now, shaky under his weight. Panting softly, they continued to talk even though it didn’t seem like anyone was ever going to respond. “You’re awfully quiet now,” They noted.

_He_ wasn’t breathing anymore. Not wheezing. Not even gasping.

“Even though you were so noisy before?” There was a slight edge to their voice he couldn’t quite place as they bantered about his last failed murder attempt. “You almost got me with that last one, you know? You’ve still got a chance,” They tempted, proceeding down the long hallway. It seemed to grow hotter the further they went down it. As they approached the single, intimidating door at the end, keypads lit up along the wall in the darkness. Lighting the sides like a runway.

“Sans the Skeleton,” they ventured cautiously, “Are you giving up already?” Frisk opened the door at the end with a code.

Hot air billowed past them as it escaped into the hallway beyond. Ashes and cylinders fluttering through with the gusted air. They proceeded into a massive chamber beyond.

Three metallic walkways were suspended above a roiling lava pit towards a central platform. The walls of the chamber were rounded and made almost entirely of metal piping which occasionally shot off bursts of hot steam into the already boiling room. The piping ran high up the height of the towering space, curving around the ceiling where they consolidated into fewer numbers.

The heat. The presence of lava. The space should have been bright. Incredibly bright.

But everything to him was just… dark. And getting darker.

He slumped more heavily into their back. Loosely wobbling with every step they took. Threatening to fall off. Not even his spine could support him upright anymore. He heard Frisk clank their way noisily down the narrow metal bridge. The pathway was rickety, rusted, and aged, but they plowed across it obstinately with a practiced ease. He heard them call, “– -Sans.” His waning focus missing most of the words other than his own name.

He felt, more than saw, them drop him like a ragdoll against the burning, metal walkway. The heat searing against his skull. His hands. His legs. Any part that was touching it was on fire.

He didn’t care anymore.

How many times had he said he was in incredible pain –that he was at his limit, but _nothing_ happened? How many times by now had he thought he was going to die, only to find himself still alive several hours later? Enduring a situation far beyond what he could sensibly handle.

It wasn’t going to _stop._ _This_ wasn’t going to stop. No matter what; he was going to survive through it. And then he’d be there for the next horrible thing. And the one after that. And the next one, too.

So, it didn’t matter. None of it did. He didn’t care anymore.

It was all just going to get _worse._

“ _Sans_!” He heard them call him again. Louder. As if they were near him, hovering closely. They shook him roughly, demanding, “Did you give up? Hey.”

He didn’t respond.

“Fine then,” They concluded in finality. Hostilely adding in an emotionless voice, “If you’re not going to stick around; there’s no point in keeping this.” They started clawing at his hand. Prying apart the welded fingers to get to the soul within. It was pulsing frantically now. Panickedly.

Was it angry?

…Or scared?

The human tore it from his grip, finally fighting that hand open. That comforting sense of the soulbeat disappeared into the blackness he couldn’t quite see. A still dread crept in in its absence. It shouldn’t matter. Boss was already gone. Even if the soulbeat was missing –

The soulbeat was–

_soulbeat._

…Was Boss _really_ gone? Could he say that with certainty? He was treating him like he was dead –every other monster who had their soul stolen had fallen into dust, but this whole time the soul had been beating. Constantly.

A soul was the culmination of everything a monster was. However small, what he’d been holding was technically Boss, wasn’t it? Maybe he could find his way back. Dig up Boss’ bones buried in the snow. Realign all the segments. Stick the soul back in. Maybe Boss could use it, even if the body was in a terrible condition? What hit point had Frisk dropped his body to again? He hadn’t been paying attention. He knew it was low. Was it zero? If he put Boss back in now, would he have to watch his brother fall to dust the second he got him back–?

It seemed like a longshot, but could he afford not to try?

He wanted to give up. Block everything out. Not care about a damn thing anymore. But if Boss was still alive shouldn’t he risk it? As long as he had Boss’ soul, there was a chance he could get it fixed; right? As long as Boss _had_ a soul; he was alive, wasn’t he?

 But if the _human_ had him instead–

 “– _ack!”_ He coughed up a slew of red bile with the cough, the wheeze searing hot through his chest. “…ack. G-g-give… -im back!” He struggled, straining to get his senses back so he could find them. His vision struggled back into focus. He saw the dizzying blur of lights ebb into the image of the child standing before him. Sweat beaded on their forehead, as their small chest rose and fell heavily with exhaustion. They were backed to the edge of the metal walkway. One tight fist outstretched over the lava below.

Staring straight at him, they wore a straight, emotionlessly determined expression. Their hold on the soul squeezed slightly. Their threat received.

A growl rumbled up out of his throat, “–ill. K-kill…” He choked on the threats, chest spasming under the effort. They were standing so precariously next to the edge themselves. Dammit! If he just had an ounce of magic, then he could cast them into the flames!

He tried.

He didn’t even care about the moral nuance of killing children anymore. Especially not this one. If they went plummeting into the lava; _good riddance_!

He snarled hatefully at them. Dug for any ounce of anything he could pull up. But there was nothing there to pull from anymore. He had nothing left. They were going to leave him with nothing.

Dammit.

Dammit.

He wanted to save Papyrus.

All he wanted to do was save Papyrus. Why was that so hard for him to do? Why did it _never_ work? Give him something, dammit!

“–il y –y-y. I’ll… kil-” His words broke off, as the pain seeped back in, too. Joining the rest of his senses. It split like a pulse from his chest down through every single limb. Sparing none from the sharp, burning jab. The metal searing beneath his bones. Every part of him felt incredibly hot. His face locked up. His breaths came in short, brief gasps under the pressure.

Frisk stiffened where they held their ground. Never once looking away, they lowered the outstretched hand slowly back to their side as he returned, writhing in agony. Cautiously keeping an eye on him, their brow pinched together. The expression could only be described as fear. Or maybe it was agony, as well. A different kind. “If you want to kill me,” They said stubbornly between breaths, small chest heaving with exertion, “You’re going to have to _live_ long enough to do that. You have to be _strong_ enough to fight me. And you can’t _give up_ before you try.” They swallowed down some other words, looking away from the pathetically struggling form. “ _Really try_ ,” They stressed, holding back some other emotion.

They said it like it was all a fact. But no matter how he wanted to hate them, tear apart everything they said as a madman’s ramblings; the logic was sound. He wasn’t going to be of any use to Papyrus if he fell apart here.

 The human stalked back over to him, away from the ledge. They snatched his hood from the floor with both hands, dragging him back towards a large, bulky machine. He tried to resist, but he didn’t have any strength behind the will. He was in too much pain. He slid across the metal, feet limply dragging behind him. They dragged him _into_ the machine, propping the broken skeleton up against the wall inside a tall, narrow chamber.

Cautiously, they crouched in front of him so they were at the same level, studying the pain on his face. “Here,” They said softer, rearranging the semblance of his hands palm up in his lap. “Keep this.” They held their fist over his upturned hands and let go. The soul slowly drifted down into his remaining palm. Sans felt rather dumbfounded they’d simply given it back to him.

Speechless, he stared down at the precious, red light, hovering just above the ruined bones with a soft, bouncing sway. Bobbing up and down above his palm at a calming, gentle pace. As if it were riding atop calm water. Ah. So, it floated. He’d been squeezing it as hard as he could since he got it; he hadn’t realized it would simply hover. That made sense, he supposed. It floated inside the chest. It was certainly capable of floating outside the chest, wasn’t it? How was he supposed to know? People didn’t usually remove their own damn souls.

It was so vulnerable like this.

“You went quiet again,” The emotionless voice noted, judging his reaction. “Is it that important to you?”

He snapped his attention back up to them, glaring at them with a vicious, hate-filled expression.

They didn’t appear intimidated at all.

“Well, it’s not nearly as important to me,” The child levelled carefully, staring at him hard with an unreadable expression. “I got it for _you. I_ don’t need it. If you fall; I’ll throw it over the side. It’ll burn and break into a million burnt, little pieces. _This_ surviving,” They stressed with a vacant inflection, motioning to the bobbing light above his palms, “Depends on _you_ surviving.”

With that promise, they got up and walked out of the device, leaving him inside the cylindrical metal chamber. But they didn’t lock him in. They didn’t try to prevent his escape. They left the door wide open, as if taunting an exit he couldn’t use right in front of him.

The child crouched next to a panel below a control console right outside the door. They used their knife to unscrew the cover and set the metal sheet aside, setting to work on the wiring within. Sans glared at them for a long time, but they never looked back over to him. Too busy with what they were working on.

Reluctantly, Sans dropped his gaze back to the soul, staring transfixed at the red light for some time. Something about the way it bobbed gently, pulsing to a constant soulbeat was calming. The tension slumped right out of him. Leaving him miserably slumped against the chamber wall. Head and arms propped the way the child had left them. The metal inside the device was uncomfortable too, burning the places where his bones touched the metal, but he was much more concerned with the fragile light fluttering above his palm.

What was he going to do?

He couldn’t let them break it; but he _couldn’t_ hold on. Everything fucking hurt. He was in pain. As he watched the soul gently bob, he was also watching the ruined shape of his hands slowly deform into a wet blob beneath it. He liked it much better when he had blocked everything out to the point where couldn’t see or feel. However, he _couldn’t_ leave Papyrus defenseless like that again. He had to escape. He tried to scrounge up magic. Maybe he could teleport? But nothing responded. He couldn’t even lift his arms. Even if he could see an exit, how was he ever going to get into one in his condition?

Fighting heavy eyelids, he struggled just to stay awake; to stay consciously aware of his surroundings. The groaning hiss of the lava and the methodical metallic sounds of the child working filled the space. Time crept by at an indeterminate pace. The room was fiery bright, always lit, so he couldn’t tell what time of day it was down here. He couldn’t tell if it was morning or night. If he spent an hour or a day straining to stay conscious. Struggling for each breath.

He couldn’t do this much longer. He didn’t have the willpower to endure this even a second more. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting it. Papyrus needed him. Papyrus needed him. _Papyrus_. Dammit, think of Papyrus.

The flower spoke up first. “Frisk, go to bed.”

The child didn’t say or do anything different. They’d been in one spot working the entire time and they remained in that same spot working now. There was a wrench stuck in between their mouth as they manually spun some divot on the board with their hand until it tightened.

“Take a nap, at least,” It implored. “I’ll watch Sans for you.”

Frisk absently freed up their mouth, continuing to work. “If you think I’m slowing down; bring something sugary.”

“Frisk,” Flowey said more insistently, “I know you’re human, but surely you’ve got limitations, too. You need sleep.”

“I don’t need it,” They corrected.

The flower was getting agitated, “Yes, you do! I’ve known a human before! They _sleep._ ”

“I’ll sleep afterwards, Flowey,” They promised as if only to appease the nagging flower for the present moment.

“You always say that!” He squeaked, winding up the small form to sit on their shoulder. He glared, staring hard, his bulb just inches from their face with a scolding look.

The child didn’t look over at him. They didn’t break eye contact with the panel, consumed with their work. Hands never slowing as they fiddled with the device. “Flowey,” They called absently, in a soft tone that made it hard to tell if they did or didn’t register that the flower was so close to them. “Bring me some more cinnamon bunnies. I’m running out.”

The flower hesitated. Making an unpleasant face, like he knew he was being duped.

Frisk finally lowered their hands, breaking eye contact with the panel long enough to offer them a poor smile. “Please?” They asked. “I need your help, _partner_.”

The flower buckled under the nickname. Wilting under the request, he offered them a worried frown in return. “Ok! Fine, but don’t do anything while I’m gone. Take a break. I’ll be right back.” Reluctantly, it left, winding down the suspended pathway. Frisk patiently watched it go, until it disappeared beneath the ground at the lab door. Once he was out of sight, the child immediately turned back to work. But instead of toiling away on the machine, they slammed the panel shut.

Soft footsteps clanked against the metal walkway as the small form of the cloak appeared in the doorway once more, obscuring the light. “Guess what?” They asked in an emotionless voice, “We’re almost done.” They stepped through the door, joining him in the chamber. The human crouched in front of the broken skeleton, sinking into their knees. “I know I shouldn’t waste time,” They mumbled more to themselves than anyone else, “But, you know me, I have to say goodbye. I mean, you probably _don’t_ know me, but I want to say goodbye anyway.” The human peeked at him over their knee. A forced, pained smile slightly tilting their expressionless face.

“Sans the Skeleton,” Their soft voice genuinely praised, “ _Every day_ has been a pleasure. I hope you make it safely to your bed on the other side.

“And…” They swallowed down any other words, keeping it brief. “And I’m actually going to need this back now.” The small, burnt hands reached forward, snatching the precious light from his palm. The soul went from gently bobbing to almost panickedly pulsing in their hand. Like it was struggling to get free, but the child held it tight.

No…

_No._ He tried to move something. Grab it back. _Protect_ it, but he couldn’t move a damn thing. He wasn’t even sure if his softened, formless bones were capable of any type of functionality anymore.

He knew it. He knew the kid was a fucking liar. He knew they needed the soul this entire time and he’d carried it the whole way for them –because he was _weak._ Because he didn’t know how to fucking _let go_ when he needed to. When Papyrus needed him to.

His chest rose and fell furiously with short, panicked breaths that wheezed past his teeth, but he couldn’t form any protest more helpful than that pathetic display.

Frisk studied his reaction, gaze drifting down to the soul in their hand. Clearly aware he was upset. But they didn’t _stop_.

“This is only temporary,” That emotionless voice stated quietly. Disarmingly. They pulled the long, thick nail the flower had retrieved from their inventory. Then, shoved it into one side of the soul. Glowing white cracks split across the wound as the nail was shoved deeply into the soul, the white light trying to shine past the deep casing of red from within. “This is _not_ the last time you’ll ever see Papyrus. I _swear._ ” They pulled a thin, copper tube form their inventory, then cut one end diagonally with their dagger. They wedged the jagged end into the other side of the soul, causing more cracks to spread across the fragile surface. The soul looked like it was _writhing in pain_ as they held it down. “You’ll get him back,” They promised.

 “I KiLl YoU,” He snarled out animalistically.

The faintest smile touched their lips. Sadly, in the most cheerful voice he’d ever heard out of them; they asked, “Does that mean you won’t forget about me?” Then, the smile fell. Their gaze dropped back to the damaged soul. They began methodically winding the copper wire between the two protruding devices. “Actually, this time, I hope you _do_ forget me.”

Their head slowly tilted to the sides then up, inspecting the chamber as they worked. “…Do you recognize this place?” They asked softly. “This is the Core. The core of all worlds. It’s a machine Gaster built to connect to the fabric of the universe so that it could be altered or manipulated.” They kept winding. “He wanted to change the world, but it wouldn’t be that easy. Things don’t change easily. You’ve heard of parallel universes, right? Slight differences in history that spread across a huge, infinite number of possibilities. I think… he wanted to move between them, to get to the one he wanted to be in. But it never happened. His life was cut short.

“They say his experiment went wrong. That he ‘fell into the Core’, one of his own inventions, while he was working on it. He was lost forever.

“But I’ve got my own working theory. I don’t think his experiment failed because it was incomplete. No. I think he was _using_ it when something went wrong. You would need a _massive_ amount of energy to travel between parallel universes. Can you imagine what would happen if the power had run out on him halfway through? If he didn’t have enough? He’d be stranded somewhere between dimensions in nothingness. Lost forever in the blackness, unable to exist. Shattered across time and space.”

With a sickening realization; Sans recognized what they were making now. They were turning the soul –his _brother_ ’s soul- into a battery.

“This machine no longer has the power to take someone across. It’s been used up.” They stood and walked out of the chamber. He saw where this was going. Sans tried to catch them. Shoved himself forward, making a desperate grab for the fragile, precious soul.

He didn’t get very far. His efforts only landed him face down against the burning metal, wheezing in urgent, pained gasps as the heat cooked his melting bones. The child hooked the two loose ends of excess cooper wire to the opened panel below the controls. Then returned, standing outside the chamber once more. Obscuring the doorway, their shadow crept into the chamber as they held the mutilated red light aloft in one hand.

“So, that’s how it is,” The human concluded, staring down at Sans apathetically. He glared back, fury etched into the remains of his features. They shut the glass door to the chamber, locking Sans inside. “Well? Can you hear me in there?” They tilted their head the slightest bit as if angled towards the soul. “If you don’t endure this, Sans will suffer the same fate as Gaster. He’ll fall into the void. Shattered across space and time. Never to exist again.” Frisk let that threat hang cold in the air.

The heart, which had been fluttering as if it were struggling, went suddenly stone still.

Frisk let go of it, allowing the still soul to float above their hand. But it didn’t fight them anymore. It didn’t run. “So, please guide him well.”

They hit a button on the panel. Electricity sparked along the copper wires, buzzing through the already damaged soul with audible cracks and pops. The glowing white fractures along the crimson surface burst, quickly spreading to consume the entire soul. The light flared to a searing degree as the machine surged to life. A cacophony of sounds rumbled throughout the device, only growing louder around him. The entire _structure_ shook beneath him.

Sans smacked a sticky hand against the glass, but he was too helpless to get out. Too weak to save the soul. He watched, horrified, as a stream of electricity stabbed through the center of his brother’s soul, connecting the two ends. Until it became blindingly difficult to look at.

A similar light flooded the chamber.

It felt like the floor dropped straight out from under him. Suctioned straight through the ground. He really _was_ falling through the abyss, but usually, when that happened, he had a firm grip on his soul. With a direction and a clear exit.

Now he didn’t.

He didn’t have anything.

He wasn’t even sure if he _had_ a soul anymore. Or a body. He couldn’t see anything. He wasn’t even sure if he was _complete._ He was just shattered pieces plummeting through darkness. Usually he was the one steering with gravity, but he wasn’t sure what was pulling him now. Forcing him along. He shot through the distance, moving incredibly fast. Speeding like light.

Light.

Oh god, _Papyrus_. Was he alright? They’d fucking _electrocuted_ him –electrocuted the very culmination of his soul! What had he done?! All because he couldn’t _let go_ of him?! He only wanted to keep him safe. He never wanted to drag him into a dangerous situation! He never wanted him to get hurt! He’d promised Papyrus that he would never abandon him and what had he done? When Papyrus needed him; he’d done _nothing._

He’d failed him.

_He_ should be nothing.

Was it Papyrus’s light guiding him right now? Was Papyrus the one pulling him along at this very moment? Let go of him. Let go of him; dammit. He wasn’t worth it! He didn’t want to destroy the only thing he cared about.

Let him die instead!

He could feel the light clinging on. Burning away as it left a streak through the darkness. _Fading_. If this continued– Stubborn ass! How could Sans possibly go anywhere _without_ him? He refused! Stop pushing him around for one second and listen, _dammit–_!

He felt the pieces of himself screech to a sudden halt. Or the first one halted. The rest crashed into the other, piling up in a vicious collision. Melding and forming together. He materialized in thin air and plummeted the rest of a very long fall, via actual gravity, into solid stone. He slammed into the wet rocks below with little resistance. Pain spiking through his entire being.

Little sparkles of the faintest specs of dust trickled down through the air around him.

No. _No_ , it wasn’t fair. He’d tried so hard. He shouldn’t be alive! His _little brother_ should be alive! He didn’t even _want_ to be here.

Give him back. _Give him back!_

His head fell back to the mud. Unable to do anything but whimper pitifully as he felt the unnatural softness of his bones meld into the rough shape of the floor. He still couldn’t move a damn thing, face-down in the dirt of his own mess. He heard the rush of streams nearby, echoing through Waterfall’s vast caves. Yet, the eerie silence was broken quickly.

 “OH MY STARS!” A too-loud voice exclaimed with almost sing-song pronunciation. “ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter:  
> No hero will save you in Underfell.  
> But a villain might.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
> 
>  
> 
> ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆  
> C O N G R A T U L A T I O N S!  
> ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
> 
>  
> 
> You’ve survived Arc Two!
> 
>  
> 
> That’s right! This is not fake. If you’re reading this you made it out of that hellhole! Give yourself a hug from me, you fuckin’ trooper!  
> How was it? Did you enjoy your stay with our story’s main antagonist? They’re pretty fuckin’ cute~!


	17. Arc Three: Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHANGELOG: Minor updates to Chapter 16  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> Mandatory Recap:  
> Previously; “I hate you, Boss, and I hope you die.”  
> Frisk: *grabs knife* “Alrighty then.”  
> Σ(⋅⃘△ ⋅⃘;) “DAMN, Frisk, I didn’t mean literally!”  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

“OH MY GOODNESS! THAT LOOKED LIKE AN AWFULLY LONG FALL,” The too-loud voice chanted to itself panickedly. A series of nearby shuffling eventually displaced several rocks and a form slid down the incline to the level on which Sans was face-down on. A hand snagged his furred hood and urgently tugged him closer to the cavern wall. Sans let himself get dragged across the uneven rocks without a fight. “HEY, CAN YOU HEAR ME?” The stranger crouched down next to him, hovering worriedly, “ARE YOU ALRIGHT? YOU ALMOST WENT OFF THE EDGE!”

Sans was hardly listening to that damn voice, wallowing face-down in his own pain and not the obviously excruciating _physical_ pain stifling down every limb from that landing. The blistering ache of the fall was seeping into his hands, his legs, his face, but a much worse kind of pain twisted his expression. Boss had been in his hands. Boss had been right in front of him and he’d let the human–

–The image of the cracks spreading and light bursting from the soul flashed across his mind–

_Give him back!_ Sans pounded the ground with a weak fist, clawing his trembling fingers across the slick stone. That wasn’t fair, human! Give him back, _now_. A whimper escaped his teeth as he sunk pathetically into the floor.

“OH! DOES IT HURT? ARE YOU SCARED? DON’T WORRY!” The echoing voice reassured, their sheer volume drowning out the somber sound of dripping water to sweep through all the echo flowers nearby. Stirring up a choir of mockingly chipper chants:

‘Does it hurt? Does it hurt? DON’T WORRY! Don’t worry!’

‘Are you scared? Are you scared? DON’T WORRY! Don’t worry!’

While the flowers sung their goddamn lies, the stranger helped lift the heavy mass from the ground, pulling him unwillingly from the mud. He was forced to lift his head as the stranger propped Sans up in a sitting position against the stone wall nearby. “I, THE MAGNIFICENT SANS, AM HERE TO HELP YOU! YOU’RE GONNA BE JUST–”

A rather familiar face cocked its head to the side. “–FINE?” The pair of crystal blue eyes inquired, losing their confident gusto midway out of pure confusion as they met Sans’ large, vacant sockets.

He was staring at an oddly distorted mirror image of himself.

The reflection was caging him in protectively close to the wall; the drop off to Waterfall’s narrow ledge not too far in front of his outstretched dirty sneakers. Like Sans, the monster claiming to rescue him was also a skeleton. He was also small with rounded cheeks, big eyes, and a chubby bulk to his form. Sans could immediately recognize the uncanny resemblance of himself in the other. They shared a near identical shape and size. But the similarities ended there.

This other skeleton had blue eyes where his should be red. Blunt teeth where there should be large fangs. Not to mention, he was wearing the most ridiculous get-up of fake armor Sans had ever seen. What looked like rubber dishwashing gloves and home-made shoulder-pads worn over a simple t-shirt was apparently supposed to pass as protective gear. A blue bandana bunched around the other’s cheeks, the vibrant cloth tied off into a large bow behind his neck, making it look like he didn’t even have one. Thus, making him appear even shorter than he actually was. But, perhaps the most noticeable difference was; his bones were pristinely white. _Clean_. Not a single scar marring them.

He had called himself ‘Sans’.

What a fucking liar. What were the chances they had the same name _and_ face? This was more likely an illusion. Or some mimic ability. Had the copycat gotten the eye color all wrong because Sans didn’t even have enough magic to light his own sockets at the moment? Was this some type of shapeshifter? A predator that stole other’s identities before they killed them?

Sans –the _real_ Sans- sunk against the wall, trying to ignore the annoying new “threat”. He really didn’t care anymore. The stranger could steal his name, his look, his life, or whatever. Honestly, it wouldn’t do him any good. Considering his relationship with the Guard right now –it would probably just get the idiot killed. Plus, it was a shitty impersonation which served as no more than mockery before the other offed him – _if_ he even _could_ off him. Sans didn’t think it was possible anymore, but he’d welcome the attempt.

At any rate, if the stranger _could_ succeed; it would be his one, last chance to be with Boss.

So instead of defending himself in any capacity, Sans allowed his hollow eyes to wander past the threat to the dim cavern beyond. The familiar damp walls. The sound of water. The river pooling over a rocky ledge.

Was _that_ it? Had that shortcut taken him straight to Waterfall? Somehow, he’d been expecting something more… _drastic._ Guess for all that kid’s talk; it didn’t work. What had all that effort been for if he was still nearby? He wondered if he had enough strength to make it to their old nook from here? He could curl up in there and… and…

Mourn?

 His sockets slumped hopelessly down to his hands trembling upon his lap. It was unnerving just how _empty_ they felt now. His broken hands were now missing that fragile light he’d clung to for so long. Yet the bones he was staring at now were solid. Perfectly reformed.

“HEY… YOU’RE SHAKING,” The mimic noted with a worried edge.

…Was he healed?

The very thought made him feel _sick_. Queasy.

Was _this_ what Boss had done? What _Frisk_ had done? He tried to clench his fangs shut as he felt his stomach flip. Traded _Boss’ life_ for a few disgustingly scarred and solid bones? The very ones he couldn’t stand to look at normally? He could stomach them even _less_ now than when they’d been falling apart, disintegrating, and melting together! Did the human not understand that it meant _nothing_ if he didn’t have his brother’s light in them –if _Boss_ wasn’t with him; why would he even want to be whole?! Papyrus’ life _wasn’t_ worth a few fragile bones!

That fucking kid--!

He felt that familiar lacing heat begin sizzling through his bones already. Boiling up along with the rage. Burning like the lava in the Core’s final chamber. It felt like he was still back there; writhing on the floor in that room of searing metal and fire. He broke out in a thick sweat under the heat’s duress. Sans stuttered on shaky breaths while the solid bones went limp. _Mushy_ almost. The fingers sagged. Then, quickly began dripping off a telling white wax from the bone.

And he realized; _it hadn’t stopped._

Everything was just starting over.

He watched the hands that had cost his brother’s life begin to collapse before his very eyes.

Whatever Frisk had tried to achieve; it hadn’t worked _at all. Nothing_ was better. What _parallel universe?_ He was sitting in Waterfall! He was falling apart just like he had been before! Nothing had changed. Then _what exactly_ had his brother died for, ‘ya little _demon_?!

The stranger’s sockets went huge as the mimic watched Sans practically decompose right in front of him. His expression pulled into something like terror, utterly speechless, as one of the two reflections began to melt away.

Then, Sans’ spine finally caved, too. No longer solid enough to be able to support his own weight, he slumped forward as whatever meager strength he’d had was sucked straight out of him. He toppled over forwards.

The lookalike panicked for a split second, before he _caught_ him with his full body. Encasing both arms around him in a hug to prevent him from falling. The mimic even went as far as to support his skull by cradling the back of his head. “A-ARE YOU SICK?” The too-loud voice asked worriedly, heads nestled over each other’s shoulder. “WHAT’S WRONG?”

Ugh. Damn it. That splitting noise was _right_ in his ear. He could barely hear himself think at this point. Couldn’t this monster just leave him alone? If he wasn’t going to take a stab at him; then _get lost_ already! There was no reason to put on some grand façade. Sans didn’t like the way this stranger was holding him either. It was uncomfortably intimate for a murderous stranger. Honestly, _any touch_ at all felt uncomfortable lately, but _this_ was definitely overkill.

The injured skeleton tried to pull himself back, but he couldn’t. Pushing against the other’s chest, he strained to push himself away for the whole of two seconds before he collapsed into the other’s arms again. His useless bones slumped even more into the strangers’ shoulder against his own volition. Sans’ protest turned into a miserable grunt as his chest stuttered on lost breaths. Melting further against his own mirrored form.

Taking the clue, the mimic loosened his grip in return. Belting, once again near his ear, “DID I HURT YOU?” as he carefully pulled his hand away from the back of the trembling skull, easing his constricting hold. Strings of a sticky substance pulled away from Sans’ head along with the retreating arms. The white, gooey threads connecting to the other’s blue gloved fingers.

Sans felt the form go rigidly stiff against him. Tensed. The briefest pause held the air while the realization of _what_ the substance on his hand must be dawned on the impostor.

A peep died in the stranger’s throat.

S _uddenly_ –unexpectedly- a punch kicked Sans square in the chest, jarring his whole form. Visibly shaken, the imposter had shoved Sans away from him almost immediately, shaking his hand free of the vile substance. While Sans, weak Sans, smacked against the wall, sliding sickly down into the damp mud. A new pain blooming across his chest.

Well…

He could hardly blame him. It was a pretty natural reaction to being touched by something _disgusting_.

…It still hurt.

 “OH, I’M SO SORRY! OH MY STARS!” The mimic chanted, guilt written all over his stolen face. Hands flying worriedly around Sans like he couldn’t figure out where to touch to make it better. Despite just pushing the vile form away, the other skeleton grabbed onto him _again_ , this time his fists finding his leather coat. The imitation yanked him jarringly back up before he could slump to the floor.

Half expecting the violence to repeat, Sans flinched away from him.

“NO! I’M NOT GOING TO—“ The other started, taken aback at the clear rejection. At the spike of _fear_ there.

 Sans didn’t dare struggle long. He was already dizzy. Moving at all felt awful. Being moved felt worse. When he opened his squeezed eyes, the mimic was staring worriedly into his empty sockets. The world dimming and blurred.

“DON’T YOU WORRY, I’M GOING TO GET YOU HELP. SEE?” The impersonation babbled, tugging a rectangular device from his shorts. He grinned wide, “OR I’M NOT THE MAGNIFICENT SANS!”

_Meaning;_ the odds were slim. Dismal, really. Sans managed a frown back at the imposter.

The nuisance fumbled with the metal box before he caught it, urgently typing in numbers with both thumbs. The line rang from the device’s receiver. The chubby skeleton held the phone between his head and shoulder while trying to support the melting form against the wall. Pulling him up every time he sunk down. Impatiently waiting until–

_Click._ The receiver finally answered. “Hel–”

“UNDYNE!!” The stranger boomed in his naturally loud voice.

_Undyne_? Sans thought foggily. He’d be _fucked_ if Undyne came.

“UNDYNE, I REQUIRE USE OF YOUR MEDICAL SERVICES IMMEDIATELY! _PLEASE COME!_ ” The blue one blurted out, stringing words together so quickly they were almost unintelligible. “I THOUGHT HE JUST FELL DOWN, BUT THERE IS CLEARLY SOMETHING MUCH MORE WRONG WITH HIM THAN THAT! HE NEEDS A DOCTOR!”

“What? S-s-slow down. What happened?” The fuzzy voice on the phone asked in a much less demanding tone than what Undyne usually spoke with. “What’s wrong?”

Without constant direct attention supporting him, Sans slid down the wall into a messy pile at the base. The blue one quickly realized his distraction, urgently tugging Sans back up into a sitting position. Despite trying to be gentle, Sans winced as the back of his skull scraped against the stone wall. The other struggling immensely to keep the phone between his bubbled, fake shoulder pad and one chubby cheek. His attention clearly torn between the phone and the emergency. Obviously being extremely careful of _where_ he touched Sans, too, lest he get his gloves dirty again.

Fuck. Just don’t touch him at all, then.

 “UNDYNE, HE’S ALL GOOPEY!” The other babbled into the receiver.

“Goopey? Sans! I thought we told you; you can’t play rough with the slime children!”

‘Sans’, huh? So _someone else_ clarified that this person’s name was Sans. Either this was an elaborate hoax or it meant the name _wasn’t_ something that was recently stolen…?

“UNDYNE! I WOULD NEVER!” The annoying voice that supposedly belonged to _Sans_ shouted offended. “I MEANT- I DON’T THINK HE’S _SUPPOSED_ TO BE A SLIME MONSTER!”

“–w- _What_?”

The real Sans slumped and fell over onto the wet ground.

“OH GEEZ! OH NO! I GOT’CHU, BUDDY!” The fake tried to prop up the un-cooperating Sans while holding the phone between his shoulder and ear. “IT’S LIKE HE’S MELTING!”

“M-mm-m-mm-melting?!” The receiver stuttered.

“THERE, THERE,” The other attempted to soothe Sans, although words were useless against physical injuries, “YOU’RE GONNA BE JUST –OH, DEAR. O-OH, _GOODNESS_ ,” The other panicked in that earsplittingly annoying tone.

“ _Sans_?” The phone’s voice keened in fright, “Wh-what’s happening?”

That searing heat was spiking through Sans’ bones much more vividly now. Burning everything. Not only did he _feel_ like he was getting worse, that sentiment was clearly echoed in the mirror’s growing frightened expression. “UNDYNE, HE NEEDS HELP! LIKE NOW!” The blue one yelled, worried cerulean eyes locked onto Sans’ vacant face as he constantly corrected his failing position. Refusing to just let go of him even though he was clearly disgusted by him.

Why.

“W-w- _where_ are you? Where is this m-mm-mel— _ting_ –”

“I DON’T THINK HE’LL MAKE IT ALL THE WAY TO THE LAB!” The other skeleton gasped suddenly, covering his perfect teeth with a clean hand as an idea popped into his little pea-brain, “WHAT IF HOTLAND MAKES HIM WORSE?! WHAT IF HE MELTS _FASTER_ IN HEAT?” Sans grit his much grosser fangs unpleasantly against the sheer volume of the concern screamed near his ear. “UNDYNE YOU HAVE TO COME _HERE_.” The blue knock-off looked around urgently at the narrow ledge that clearly wouldn’t fit three people, his big eyes wandering over to Waterfall’s sheer drop. “WELL, NOT _HERE_ HERE. HERE’S NOT A GOOD SPOT EITHER…” He ventured, barely listening to the contact’s worried screeching from the other side of the phone. Their conversation completely out of sync.

 “Did y-y-you say he w-was _melting_?! Sans? _Sans_ , think about this! Are you sure? What d-d-do you mean he’s _melting_?” The phone begged, fixed panickedly on that single word. “Can you describe it?”

“OH UNDYNE, HE’S IN TROUBLE! LET’S MEET AT MY HOUSE. IT’S CLOSER –AND COLDER! I’LL TAKE HIM THERE. OKAY?”

“W-w-w-wait! Sans, no! Don’t do that! Do NOT do that. DON’T TAKE IT INTO TOWn–”

Blue hung up without waiting for a confirmation.

The stranger looked down at the hopeless mess of a skeleton below him who was unable to even keep himself upright. There was doubtful fear reflected in his large, cerulean eyes. The fake took a huge, deep breath, stealing his gloved hands into fists like he was pumping himself up. He nodded to himself, fixing a brave expression across his face.

“DON’T WORRY; THE MAGNIFICENT SANS CAN SAVE ANYONE!” The pep talk seemed to be more for himself than for anyone else. Not exactly inspiring words.

He slipped his gloves beneath Sans’ armpits. Then, with a surprising heave, he lifted him off the ground entirely with a more impressive display of strength than one would expect to be housed in that tiny of a body. The skeleton stumbled back a step or two as Sans’ limp body swung into his torso. His feet right on the edge of the perilous ledge. He dropped Sans’ arms over his own shoulders, allowing them to dangle off behind him. Suddenly not shy about touching him any longer, he grabbed Sans by the rump, and hefted him up, lifting his legs from dragging along the floor. He propped his legs up with just one arm. His other securing the furred leather jacket in a tight, one-armed hug. The little form was almost consumed beneath Sans’ bulk since they were practically the same size and height. As he tried to balance the awkward handful, his little back inclined back far under the weight, precariously leaning over the blackness of Waterfalls’ final cliff.

It was a sheer drop down.

But _this Sans_ was sturdy. Grounded. He wasn’t going to fall.

“ALRIGHT,” He huffed. Announcing in a renewed chipper tone, “LET’S GET YOU BACK HOME.”

While holding his entire burden, he took a running start and bounded up the slick, gravelly incline onto the main path. Sans’ furred hood –and weakly dangling arms- bobbed with each exaggerated step, dropping him further into the awkward hug of a hold with each bounce until his head was suffocatingly nestled into the crook of the blue scarf.

Sans tried to move his arms to push away the person’s rather personal grip, but, by now, several fingers barely twitched in response. He was too far gone. Sweaty and unstable; he was going downhill fast. He didn’t have much of a choice but to go along with him. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it. He didn’t exactly feel up to moving. He didn’t exactly think he _could_.

Instead, Sans watched helplessly, tense and strained, over the stranger’s shoulder as the ledge where Boss’ final dust had fallen shrank into the distance. The two left what specks remained of his little brother far behind.

He had no way of going back for him.

Sans small, broken form sunk dejectedly when the sight of that ledge finally disappeared, letting the lingering tenseness melt miserably out of his bones.

It was gone. All gone.

As the doppelganger jogged along Waterfall’s soggy path, a murmur of pleasant conversations drowned into the wet background as unusually _blue_ echo flowers – _what an odd color_ \- chatted amongst themselves. Their cool glow lighting the cavern in a breathtaking view.

An _unusual_ view.

Sans relinquished himself to the surreal situation. Surrendering to his own clone that was kidnapping him down roads he’d walked hundreds of times. These winding roads were hauntingly recognizable. This Waterfall looked exactly like his own, except it… _didn’t_. Replacing all the ominous red colors he’d known with that soothing blue shade. A sight which spurred the odd sense of an uncanny, yet almost somber, familiarity to fester in the back of Sans’ mind.

Why did he know it so well? Was this sensation because Waterfall used to be his home? Because he used to live here? He had spent so much time here with Pap. Back when he was little. Back when he was _alive_ –and the flowers had always been _red._

Yet the _color_ of the flowers didn’t matter. It was all so _trivial_ now. _Nothing_ mattered anymore. Who gave a fuck what color the flowers were? Especially, when they weren’t even _Boss’_ favorite color anymore?

It all blurred together through the moisture in his eyes anyway.

As the path wound on, he didn’t know why he didn’t fight. Or sob. Or protest it in the slightest. Maybe because there was no point. He’d already lost what was important. It wasn’t like he had the energy to scream or kick or cry out. He could feel himself growing numb to even those feelings now as he stared vacantly over the mimic’s shoulder, watching the blur of landscape solidify back into clearer shapes with each silent blink. Each quiet tear leaving him dryer, number, and more empty than he was before.

Maybe, if he was lucky, this would all just be a dream. One long, bad dream. And Boss would wake him up tomorrow, yelling about how he should stop having such terrible nightmares.

There was something oddly comforting about that thought. That he might wake up one day and everything he thought he knew would be entirely untrue. That none of it would be real. Nothing mattered; not even something as horrible as this. Sans clung to that thought as if it were the _only truth_.

So, he allowed himself to sink into the fabric of the bowed blue scarf –against that plush, _bed-like_ warmth- as he watched the scenery sprawl out behind them with labored breaths and dry, vacant sockets.

They passed through Waterfall. The murmur of strange blue flowers disappeared into the distance replaced by the sound of the Blue Sans’ upbeat ringtone buzzing occasionally from his pocket below –which, of course, the clone was too preoccupied to answer. So, he ignored it, allowing the racket to buzz irritatingly from beneath them. Next, they passed the billowing fjord where Sans had watched Boss get torn apart.

There wasn’t a trace of him left.

No bones, no dust, no broken trees or stone, no signs of battle, or scuffled snow. The road was blank. Nothing but footsteps left on the path –and not just their own.

As they jogged through a gentle snowfall, down eerily nostalgic roads, the sheer _amount_ of people on them felt _unfitting_. There were never this many people out on the roads –even with the bar currently unoccupied; the streets had always been scarce. Often too dangerous to travel on unprepared.

“OH, HELLO!”

“GOOD EVENING!”

“HIYA!”

The Blue Sans greeted every _single_ passerby they passed. The two of them receiving several turned heads that watched them bound down the night road and out of sight. Sans watched the darkened silhouettes of lingering strangers fade away into the blackness of night behind them. Unable to make out their faces, yet he could swear some of them looked strikingly familiar in his own delirium. The bounding skeleton kept them moving, not once stopping on his way. He only briefly pulled his hand away from Sans’ back to wave at the strangers before once again wrapping it securely around his leather jacket, making sure the unsteady skeleton wouldn’t fall.

Shortly after entering Snowdin’s bounds, the two slowed, finally arriving at their destination right on the outskirts of town. And Sans knew _exactly_ where they were. They were at the cabin. _His_ cabin. _His_ home.

The impersonation let himself inside without even knocking. A wreath Sans didn’t even recall having on the door jingled as they walked inside the uncannily familiar house. His hollow sockets briefly glanced over the bludgeoning rock by the front door as they passed it. The exact same one that Frisk had tricked him with, now returned to its previous position with a note stuck to it scrawled in a clean, neat script. The similarities the outside had so clearly presented didn’t hold up once they were inside. Once he could _see_ the interior space more clearly.

This home was clearly neater than his own, well taken care of. It seemed almost fresh. There was a honeyed sweet scent to the air. The wallpaper was vibrant. The carpet; spotless. Rather than the most minimalistic set of furniture, there were actually baubles and tables and pictures on the walls together with the familiar television and sofa set of his own home, but the extra additions gave the entire space a lived-in feel. This room was actually filled as if it were a true home.

Meaning; it _wasn’t_ his house.

It hadn’t been his Waterfall. It hadn’t been his streets. So, where was he supposed to be? Was this still a dream? With this much detail? If he had died, surely, he wouldn’t be in nearly as much pain as he was right now, right? Plus, he couldn’t have died. He _knew_ he didn’t die.

The human had said the machine he was in had been made by Gaster. That it was the Core of all Worlds and could move people between parallel universes.

The human was also clinically insane; he quickly reminded himself.

They’d murdered – _fuck_ \- how many people? He’d watched them _laugh_ as a building burned down around them. They’d broken into his house in the dead of night just to give him _sweets._ They believed an old, broken machine half consumed in lava could send someone to another _dimension_.

But… Don’t tell him that bullshit had actually worked? So then, if that _were_ the case; this strange skeleton that had his face, his name, and an eerily similar house…

No.

Somehow, he _refused_ to believe that. That this obnoxiously loud, _ridiculous_ skeleton was supposed to be him! It was insulting! Something in him just _knew_ they couldn’t be the same person. They were so _different_ …

The blue one hopped once, readjusting Sans against him as he looked around, calling loudly into the empty space, “HELLOOO? ANYONE HOME?”

No one answered.

Of course not. Of course no one answered. The occupants of this house were dead or dying. _Should be_ dead or dying. This was all a lie, right? Please let this be a hoax. Or an elaborate dream? If it were real, then that would mean Boss _wouldn’t_ be waking him up. That Boss was really–

“ _MUFFET_ ’S AGAIN?” The blue version of himself pouted. Adding in a worried mumble, “HOW LATE IS IT GONNA BE THIS TIME?” as he walked into the kitchen, flipping the light switch. The kitchen lit up revealing the clean counters, checkered floor, and a three-person dining table set against the right of the room. “THIS IS WHY HE SLEEPS ALL DAY!!” He scolded no one in particular as the doppelganger hooked a foot around the leg of a chair, dragging it away from the kitchen table. He eased Sans into the chair as gently as he could, yet Sans’ remaining mess plopped heavily into the seat anyway.

He wasn’t holding together so well.

He swayed in the chair on unsteady bones, leaning precariously to one side. Blue caught him, centering him back on the seat, but it was only a moment before Sans started to sag to the opposite side. “OH, UHM!” The blue one pulled him back and forth trying to center him, but it quickly became apparent Sans wasn’t going to be able to support himself.

“ONE SECOND!” He chirped, looking around nervously for a way to free up his hands. He pulled Sans back to center, then quickly took a step away, stretching his arm to yank an apron off a hook on the kitchen wall. It was a white garment with light blue plaid around the cords and sash. Overall the design was simple –minimalistic- with a blue star patched into the chest. He spun back around in time to catch Sans from slipping off the chair.

“THIS WILL HELP!” He insisted, draping the apron over the front of Sans. The blue one pulled the laces for the neck and waist back through the rungs on the kitchen chair and tied them off tightly, melding Sans’ shape back into the form of the chair, forcing him to sit upright. Then, the mimic stepped back admiring his handiwork.

Sans sagged in the chair, but he didn’t fall. The apron was the _perfect_ size for even his unusually smaller form. …Because this was “ _Sans_ ’” apron, wasn’t it?

“SEE?” Blue sang happily, clapping his gloved hands together with a big grin.

Sans didn’t respond, letting his head slump forward in the makeshift binds. It hung low while his chest heaved, wheezing out sorry, fragmented breaths between his fangs.

The doppelganger hesitated, his big grin faltering the tiniest bit. Sans was starting to suspect he had a perma-grin, too –just like he did. Their appearance seemed to match, even if their personalities were so completely different. “UHM. I’M SURE UNDYNE WILL GET HERE SOON.” He ventured reassuringly, “CAN I GET YOU ANYTHING WHILE WE WAIT? WATER PERHAPS?”

How were refreshments going to help if _Undyne_ found him? There was no reason to feed or water a dead man. It was a waste of supplies. Hell, _Sans_ wouldn’t have even taken a stranger in off the streets in the first place!

Without waiting for an answer, the Sans that shouldn’t exist busily made his way to the cabinets, half crawling onto the counter to pull a cup from the cupboard. He filled the glass at the abnormally low sink. Then, brought it back for his ‘guest’ tied to the chair. He hovered awkwardly around Sans for some time, trying to figure out how to give him water when the clone was clearly uncomfortable lifting Sans’ unstable head or touching his unsteady bones in any way. “MAYBE IF I COULD –OR -OR MAYBE IF YOU JUST–” Several awkward near-touches later, the doppelganger finally gave up on the idea of refreshments.

“MAYBE WATER _ISN’T_ THE BEST THING RIGHT NOW…?” He suggested, setting the glass on the nearby table. He pulled up a chair, flipping one of the seats at the table to angle towards Sans’ chair which was sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor. The positioning alone made him feel more like an interrogation subject rather than the guest the other attempted to treat him as. In fact, by the way he was bound; he would feel like a prisoner if his interrogator were even _remotely_ intimidating.

But the other hardly made that effort –and maybe that was the point? Maybe it was all some elaborate reverse tactic to lure him into _feeling_ like he was safe?

_That_ was something _Sans_ might do.

The chubby skeleton took a seat opposite of him. Huge, crystal blue irises roaming the panting, limp skeleton with concern. It wasn’t long before the questions started; “HOW ARE YOU FEELING? DOES IT HURT?”

No. Of course not. Melting was _painless._

“IS THE CHAIR UNCOMFORTABLE?”

‘Fer starters; he was _tied_ to it.

“IS THERE _ANYTHING_ I CAN DO FOR YOU?”

_Shut up._

Yet not a single sarcastic remark made it past his fangs. Sans found he didn’t have the voice to answer between his heavy wheezes, barely finding the energy for breath as he slowly dripped white wax off the chair onto the pristine kitchen floor below.

The other version of himself was eyeing Sans so intensely with his clear, blue gaze that it was starting to make him feel uncomfortable. The mimic forced a reassuring smile at him, suppressing a concerned look, as he leaned in closer. “HEY, AS SOON AS YOU FEEL BETTER; I’LL MAKE YOU SOMETHING TO EAT! AND THEN YOU CAN HAVE AS MUCH FOOD AS YOU WANT! AND WATER! I HAVEN’T SEEN ANY OTHER SKELETONS AROUND HERE BEFORE. ARE YOU FAR AWAY FROM HOME?” The gratingly loud voice continued to inquire. His short legs dangled off the too-tall chair, kicking like he was just itching to move. “IT’S STARTING TO GET LATE OUTSIDE, YOU KNOW? YOU CAN STAY HERE FOR THE NIGHT IF YOU WANT. I MEAN, IF YOU DON’T FEEL UP TO WALKING HOME AFTER UNDYNE TREATS YOU. I DON’T MIND. REALLY,” He looked down at his lap, nervously twiddling his hands together. A possibly permanent smile plastered across his face. “I DON’T LIKE STAYING HERE ALONE, ANYWAY.”

Suddenly, there was a startlingly loud knocking at the door. So loud it was practically banging.

“OH!” The blue version perked up. “THAT MUST BE UNDYNE.” He hopped off the chair, then practically bounced his way to the front door. Not even checking to see who it was before he opened the door defenselessly wide. “HELLO!” He greeted cheerily.

“SANS!” A woman’s voice screamed in relief. From the corner of his socket, Sans saw a tall figure practically fall over the blue one in a big hug, dropping to her knees in the process. She pulled the smaller chubby skeleton away suddenly, checking him over urgently, turning his head from side to side. “A-a-a-are you alright? Are y-y-you unharmed?!”

The doppelganger giggled. “OH, I’M FINE,” He responded. “UNDYNE, IT’S NOT _ME_ WHO NEEDS HELP. COME IN! QUICKLY! HE NEEDS A DOCTOR,” He grabbed her by the arm, tugging a tall, blue scaled woman in a lab coat behind him as he led them back towards the kitchen.

Sans tried to lift his head for the imminent danger, determined to look his doom in the eye, yet his skull slumped weakly into his shoulder instead, unable to support its own weight. His vision swam, unappreciative of the tilt. He apprehensively watched the Captain approach in a more timid manner than he’d ever seen –or would even expect- out of her. Her red hair was done up messily in a bun and she was wearing not only a white lab coat, but also a pair of squared glasses. That face was definitely, unmistakably Undyne’s, but she seemed a bit thinner, less muscular, than the fearsome Captain who had tried to steal his life.

Rather, there seemed to be fear painted _all over_ her expression as the blue version of him dragged the fish woman obliviously behind himself. The supposed ‘doctor’ seemed increasingly reluctant to go forward the more they approached the patient, leaning back further and further the closer they got. Until, eventually, she _clearly_ wanted to be anywhere but in this room together with him. She even dug her heels in at the last few steps.

She was _terrified_ of him.

_This_ was supposed to be the doctor who’d save him? Just kill him already. Sans let his head fall back down, dangling limply over his seat. This wasn’t worth expending the energy to lift his head for. This woman was capable of neither saving nor ending him. The blue one was wasting his time.

“THIS IS HIM,” He pointed to the limp mess slumped in the chair, purely held upright by the fabric binds that tethered him to the back of the chair. Sans wheezed haggardly in the ensuing silence. Only that and the slight drip of the white wax leaking off the chair was audible in the stiff moment.

Undyne pulled her hand out of the blue one’s grip before he could pull her any closer. Yet Blue didn’t slow down, whatsoever. Coming the rest of the way himself.

“I FOUND HIM OVER IN WATERFALL,” He explained. Exaggerating the movements as he told the story, “IT LOOKED LIKE HE FELL FROM REEAAALLLYY HIGH UP. AND THEN HE HIT THE GROUND SUPER HARD.” He clapped his hands together to imply the impact. “I WENT DOWN TO CHECK ON HIM. HE SEEMED FINE AT FIRST –HE WAS A SKELETON; JUST LIKE ME!” The fact he had to clarify what _species_ he was told Sans a lot about what he must look like right now. “BUT THEN, HE STARTED GETTING ALL GOOPEY AND –I DUNNO– WET? IT WAS LIKE HE STARTED MELTING. SEE?” He motioned like he was about to poke Sans in the skull with a finger to demonstrate exactly how unsolid he was.

“Wait! Don’ttouchhim-ahHHH-” Undyne made some sort of garbled squeak.

 Blue stopped as requested, glancing worriedly down at the still form next to him instead, “HE WAS SOLID BEFORE. HE HASN’T SPOKEN. PLUS, IT SOUNDS LIKE HE’S HAVING TROUBLE BREATHING. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT BROKE!” He looked back to the woman in the white lab coat, “DO YOU KNOW WHAT’S WRONG WITH HIM, UNDYNE?” His big eyes; hopeful.

“He-h-h-he’s, uhm,” she stuttered nervously under the pressure, staring at her feet instead of those big eyes. Fists curled into her lab coat as she reluctantly continued, “Definitely gelatinous. It –it would appear he’s failing to maintain a physical form,” She rambled rigidly. Diagnosing without even looking at him, “As you n-n-noted before, he’s probably ‘m-mm—mm-melting’ as you s-say. It’s probably d-due to, uhm, well, due to his de-De–” She glanced up at the deformed figure, falling silent. She couldn’t seem to spit out any more words. Locked stiff at the sight of him, her sentences fell off into such a tense silence that nothing but the sound of Sans’ own wheezing could be heard in the space once again.

“. . .”

Blue cocked his head to the side at her curious lapse in words, “CAN YOU FIX HIM?”

The fish-like monster didn’t respond, huge eyes locked on the still form apprehensively like she was expecting him to suddenly combust.

She took a cowardly step away.

The blue clone seemed surprised at her behavior. He quickly turned towards the melting skeleton, “DON’T WORRY. UNDYNE’S JUST SHY. SHE’S REALLY, REALLY SMART. I’M SURE SHE CAN HELP YOU,” He insisted apologetically on her behalf. He turned back to Undyne, grabbing her by the hand before she could escape. Pulling her closer towards what remained of the skeleton.

She leaned away.

“HE _NEEDS_ US. WHAT DO YOU SAY?” His big eyes begged her hopefully. “I’M NOT SURE WHAT WE HAVE ON HAND –BUT WE HAVE ALL THE NORMAL STUFF. I COULD GO FETCH ANYTHING, TOO! JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DO.”

Undyne’s eyes drifted from the forming monstrosity to the big, innocent, pleading blue orbs standing right next to it.

Her expression shifted into something more determined. The doctor cleared her throat noisily, recovering herself. “Well, Sans,” she began in a serious tone, “I-I-I-In my _professional_ opinion, I think you s-should _stay away from him_.” Undyne practically put Sans in a headlock as she dragged the little skeleton away from the melting form, “Far, _faaaaaar_ away from him.”

She didn’t stop backing up until they were at the kitchen archway –and even then she didn’t let go of the little guy.

A frown tugged the other Sans’ perma-grin. “HOW CAN WE HELP HIM FROM HERE?”

“W-well… that is –uhm –a-an excellent question, Sans. You see, uhm, we,” She hesitated, looking on anxiously at the motionless monster failing in the distance. Her voice fell miserably flat, squeezing the blue one a little closer. “We don’t.”

Blue pouted disappointedly up at the scientist, his cheeks squished close to his face in her headlock. Demanding, “WE CAN’T DO THAT. HE NEEDS US!”

He tried to take one hefty step back towards the patient in the kitchen, but the doctor desperately held on, refusing to let go of him as she tried to keep him back. His head whipped disapprovingly back around at the woman. She seemed to wilt under his scolding gaze, “s-s-Sans, you don’t understand, he’s– w-Well, he’s–”

~~“–a-already dead.”~~

The front door jingled. The bells on the decorative wreath danced as snow billowed into the entrance. From the corner of his socket, Sans could make out another tall, yet uninvited, figure enter through the front door behind them. The form’s head was angled down as he tapped off some of the snow from his shoes. A plastic bag rustled in his hand. That height–

Sans immediately dropped his wandering gaze back to the tiled floor, a bad feeling welling up from within his chest.

 “Sans,” A lethargic voice called his name. “i brought you back some cakes from Muffet’s.”

The doctor’s hostage enthusiastically turned towards the new visitor while simultaneously yanking Undyne, who was wrapped around him, around with him as he spun. The little guy was probably stronger than her –stronger than Undyne! “YOU CAME BACK!” He greeted, bursting with cheer, “WELCOME BACK, BRO!”

_That tone._ It was filled with _so much_ adoration. The bad feeling in his chest only grew worse.

The next words were spoken apprehensively, as if the newcomer knew these words wouldn’t be met quite so enthusiastically, “actually,” he began, “i just came to drop this off.” The bag rustled. “i’m not going to stay too long,” The drawl admitted guiltily to the floorboards. “i was planning on heading back out soon.” He gathered the courage to glance back up at Sans, but his brow furrowed instead at the strange sight of the doctor putting a headlock around his brother.

He paused for the briefest second.

Then, slowly, with a hint of tenseness to the words; “what’s going on here?”

Undyne let go of the blue one almost immediately, putting her hands up defensively. “Well, you s-s-see…”

The blue one butted in happily, “UNDYNE’S HERE TO HELP. OH! YOU SHOULD HELP, TOO! YOU SEE, I, _THE MAGNIFICENT SANS_ , FOUND AN INJURED MONSTER OUT IN WATERFALL EARLIER! WE’RE GOING TO RESCUE HIM,” Blue stepped back shoving Undyne along with him out of the line of sight as he presented his finding, announcing proudly, “AS THE GOOD SAMARITAN I AM; I BROUGHT HIM BACK HERE!”

Sans heard the plastic bag crash to the floor. The cakes forgotten.

In the silence, he could hear a mandible clacking open and closed a few times. As if all words failed him.

“PAPY?”

_Papy._

Sans went rigidly stiff, his entire body locking up at the nickname. Dark sockets huge. A prickling sensation swept up his back, tingling at the base of his skull. A short breath exhaled between his fangs –the very last of his air.

He knew it. He fucking knew it. That was _why_ he hadn’t looked.

Papy. _Papy_ …? Considering the similarities of everything else so far, it would be ignorant to assume that name meant anything other than what he _thought_ it meant.

Papyrus was standing right over there.

Not his Papyrus. Not the one he’d lost.

An _imitation_.

Fuck.

Was it too late to run? Was that still possible?

If he had been capable of it, Sans would have jumped straight out of his bones –jarred from his thoughts- as a pair of two long, boney legs in cargo shorts suddenly _appeared_ in front of him. Out of thin air. Without any sound or warning of approaching whatsoever. As if the person had just _teleported_ right in front of him.

Sans held his breath, like that might make the intruder go away. His mind was racing as fast as his goddamn pulse. Keeping his sockets strictly down, at the stranger’s feet, to their freshly de-snowed sneakers that were still sopping wet from who knows how many hours spent out in the snow.

_Hah._ See? Their facts were all wrong. This hoax was busted. Papyrus wouldn’t wear sneakers. Papyrus wouldn’t–

Undyne made some wail of concern by the kitchen archway. “P—P-Papyrus, please! We don’t know what’s wrong with him. It’s not s-ss-safe to be that close.”

_Papyrus._

His chest ached to hear his little brother’s full name out loud. In his brain, he knew these _were_ Papyrus’ wet sneakers. That this was _his_ home. That blue clone was _his_ brother. And the only way that could be true was if the machine _had worked_. Had stolen his little brother’s life to spit him out here. _This wasn’t a dream_. In this dimension, in _this_ place, Papyrus was _alive_. More than just a fragile floating heart and whole enough to wear shoes. Because, here, in this timeline, _Sans_ hadn’t been around to fuck it all up for him, had he? He, _specifically_ , hadn’t been there to ruin Papyrus’ life or get him killed.

Without him, Boss could be –could _do_ \- anything he wanted to.

‘Papyrus wouldn’t wear sneakers.’ It was just the desperate ramblings of someone in denial. _Would_ Papyrus wear sneakers if he hadn’t been around? He didn’t know! But the point was that Papyrus _could_ wear sneakers here because he wasn’t forced to always wear that _one_ uniform. The Guard’s uniform. Ya’know. So that Papyrus could _protect_ **_him_**.

A _parallel universe,_ huh? A slight difference that changed _everything_. Well… Didn’t everything seem just peachy here when he, _specifically_ , was the thing that seemed to be removed?

The heat that had been burning lividly through Sans’s bones practically doubled. _So many_ things had been his fault. –He wasn’t _stupid_. Obviously, other things were _different_ now. Waterfall had _blue_ flowers. Undyne was in a _lab coat_ for fuck’s sake. But, that was all so trivial. In _his house_ , there wasn’t a trace of _him_ to be found –because that _blue thing_ certainly wasn’t him –and still everything was just fine. _Better_ than “fine”.

Pathetic. It stung so badly. He hated himself all the more.

This was how it should have been. He was the problem. He should have never existed.

“It’ll be s-safer if you –j-just _step away_ from him,” Undyne cautioned.

He failed to swallow a stubborn lump in his throat. Y-yeah, Papyrus, listen to her. Ok? _Listen_ to Undyne for once. Get the fuck away from him.

…Please?

Sans curled his toes, managing to pull his own dirty sneakers that were dangling off the chair a margin away from Papyrus’ spotless legs. He felt himself sinking further in his seat, head shrinking guiltily into his shoulders.

Sans nearly flinched as a boney hand lifted from the stranger’s side, lightly gripping some of the fabric of his hood that bunched out from around the apron’s confines near his head. The large hand ran the fuzz between his thumb and finger, feeling the texture of the fur.

Why was that hand shaking so much?

“P-P-Papyrus!” The doctor screeched from the archway. Begging, “Don’t get that c-cc-close. I-I-I can’t condone getting _that close_!”

If Papyrus heard her, he certainly didn’t listen. He stayed right where he was. In fact, he crumpled to his knees on the floor right in front of Sans who sat silently slumped in the kitchen chair with his head hung.

“hey there,” he heard the other breathe an unsteady breath near his ear. The sound sent a shiver down his whole spine. “hey,” Long, boney hands shakily reached up for him. He winced as the phalanges brushed the ugly lump of his cheeks. The tall skeleton gently cupped his malformed skull in his large hands, seemingly unbothered by the soggy, malleable way his cheek deformed into the touch. In fact, Papyrus’ hands only seemed to _stop_ trembling once they were touching him. He didn’t force Sans’ head up. Instead, he dipped his own to look into Sans’ hollow sockets.

A flash of tangerine dropped into view.

Sans shuddered away from the touch timidly. Squeezing his sockets shut, before he could look him in the eye. Refusing the temptation this world offered. He was _afraid_ to look at the strange parody of his brother that this world might have concocted. He wasn’t brave enough to look at something that even _remotely_ resembled his brother right now. Because he knew _none_ of it would be familiar to him. _None of it_ would be what he had lost. It was all a lie.

The coolness of the slender hand pressed to his cheek. The slight tremble of relief and longing mixed into the voice. It wasn’t _real_ –no, rather, the fact that it _was real_ –that it was here at all; meant that _his Papyrus_ was long gone.

Head turned, Sans panted weakly into the palm of the stranger’s hand.

“Papyrus!!!” The doctor’s voice scolded, “That’s not safe! Don’t touch it! I can’t advise getting–I– _I can’t_ –” Undyne started, yet her voice cut off in fear realizing her warning wasn’t getting through his thick skull whatsoever. Her words weren’t having any effect. She stood stiffly as if horrified at what she was witnessing. “I—I-I ’m so sorry! I can’t do this anymore—!” She whimpered quietly, a sob catching in her throat as her fists furled further into her lab coat, “I CAN’T watch this happen!!”

She turned and bolted from the room.

“UNDYNE?! WAIT!” The blue one called after her, spinning to watch her go, but far too late to catch her as she ran out the front door. The wreath jingled as the door banged closed behind her. “WE NEED YOU…” his voice trailed off weakly.

“what’s wrong with him?” That damn _lie_ of a voice cut in before the other Sans could even attempt to pursue her. The previous calming undertones in his voice now pitching into something sharp. Something all too familiar. Anger maybe? That was an emotion Sans was used to seeing on Papyrus. It made the lie so much more _convincing_. So much _worse._

_Boss–_

 “WE DON’T KNOW,” The blue version answered, turning back to his brother. “WE WERE TRYING TO FIGURE THAT OUT BEFORE YOU CAME IN. WE THINK HE’S MELTING?” His clone suggested. “HE WASN’T LIKE THIS WHEN I FOUND HIM!”

“shh. shh. hey, you’re okay,” The drawl soothed softly to Sans while the other spoke. He felt a wandering thumb rub back and forth against his unstable cheek. Yet Papyrus’ tone edged closer to something stern as he addressed the other, “how long has he been like this?”

The other paused.

“HUMMM. MAYBE THIRTY MINUTES MAX?” The Blue one speculated, “I HAD TO CARRY HIM BACK HERE. UNDYNE ARRIVED A BIT AFTER THAT.” He cocked his head curiously to the side, “ARE YOU OKAY, PAPY?”

“hm? oh, yeah. yeah, i am,” he reigned that sweet lie of his voice back to something lax. “thirty minutes, huh?” Papyrus hummed distractedly as he spun his attention back down to the not so cute Sans. “that seems like a long time to be… well, like _this_. we should do something. and soon.”

“THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!” The other pouted. “BUT UNDYNE WAS ACTING WEIRD. SHE SAID HE WAS ‘FAILING TO MAINTAIN A PHYSICAL FORM’ –AND I HAVE NO CLUE HOW TO FIX THAT.”

The taller frowned down at the failing form, wheezing in his arms. “i could try something,” Sans heard him mumble. The hands that were cupping his face disappeared. Sans met a face-full of orange cloth, head smushing against the chest that came forward as Papyrus fiddled with the laces behind his chair.

“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?” Blue asked.

“my best guess,” Papyrus replied unabashed as he freed the last of the ties from the chair. Sans sagged forward completely without the apron’s support, crumpling against the larger chest.  A long arm wrapped around behind him, holding him close, but Papyrus’ other arm tugged the apron free from between them, discarding it out to the side.

“ _GUESS_?” The other scolded. “ARE YOU SURE WE SHOULD BE _GUESSING_ ABOUT THIS, PAPY? HE LOOKS LIKE HE’S IN REAL TROUBLE.”

“well, we can’t wait around for Undyne,” He pointed out almost casually, clutching Sans close to his chest as he shimmied the form’s limp arm and shoulder until he could pull the leather sleeve off of his arm. Sans’ face contorted as the stickiness of his bones tried to pull away with it.

“I REALLY THINK A DOCTOR WOULD BE BETTER.” The other suggested, hovering closer.

“–aggck _gh_!” Sans gagged as the leather jacket peeled away.

“–PAPY, IF YOU HURT HIM; I WILL BE _SO_ CROSS WITH YOU!”

“shhh,” the drawl soothed empathetically, ignoring the scolding he received. “i know. i know, it hurts doesn’t it?” But he _continued_ to do the same for the other arm; tugging the other jacket sleeve away from his melded bones, _despite_ the obvious protest of white strands clinging on, until he’d managed to remove the stubborn jacket entirely. He dropped this, too, to the floor.

The blue one latched on to the back of this his brother’s orange hoodie, shaking the taller’s torso anxiously. “BE CAREFUL!”

“he’s fine,” The drawl corrected. Then, added fondly as an afterthought, “…he’s tough.” The hint of a hopeful smirk tugged the familiar strong mandible’s concerned frown. Yet Boss’ voice held an unusual weight of worry to it. A clear lack of his usual unshakable confidence.

Sans had to remind himself to look away before his gaze drifted too far past that unmistakable jawline. He couldn’t help it. It had been so long since he’d last seen Boss smile. He missed it already. But was that how it had looked? Was that how he remembered it? A lackadaisical slant rather than a cruel tilt? Damn! He’d told himself he wasn’t going to look! That this was all a “lie”.

_Of course,_ it was a “lie”, stupid. Don’t trust what you see. Because, otherwise, would that be _praise?_ From _Boss’_ mouth? _For him?_

Of course not! This was some sort of reverse-psychology to get him to stop squirming! But even if Boss had been the one who commanded it –even if Sans _wanted_ to obey him; he didn’t have much control over his body right now.

Sans’ balance was too easily swayed in the aftershocks of the coat’s removal. His head lolled forward, forced to rest heavily against the strong chest in front of him. He shivered without the familiar warmth of his jacket surrounding him. Nevermind the sting left on his bare arms. He felt downright _naked_ without his coat.

A poor choice of words. For he was quickly reminded what naked _really was_ when he felt the long fingers curl under the hem of his T-shirt as well. His sockets, which had been weakly sagging over his vision, snapped wide at the touch. Damn it all. He was dropping his guard far too much! Get it together. This _wasn’t_ Boss.

“PAPY~,” His clone warned disapprovingly as he hovered, blue eyes flicking between his brother and the patient. But the taller skeleton didn’t remove his fingers. Apparently, personal space was a concept that didn’t exist in this dimension.

Immediately, Sans knew this was going to be awful. The jacket had had the shirt as a buffer between his sticky bones and the fabric, so it only left that burning sting across his arms. The shirt, of course, had no such thing. He’d been festering in this shirt for some time now, too. Most of it had already welded to much of his more unstable bones. Not to mention he didn’t exactly have the strength to lift his arms to help. So, much of the shirt’s removal would have to be done purely through brute force.

For better or worse, the taller skeleton ripped it up as fast as he could, giving little warning beforehand. It was the equivalent of quickly ripping off a band-aid, except it was much, _much_ worse. And to his credit he didn’t scream. Or maybe he was so far gone he couldn’t. Either way, Sans’ vision nearly blacked out as the shirt left his head, causing him to sway dizzily on the edge of his seat with the recoil. The sting of snapped strands sizzling all across his torso.

It _hurt._

“P-PAPY!” The little skeleton cried offended, throwing a hand over his eyes and turning his back to them. As if missing the point entirely, he scolded, “THAT’S INDECENT!”

Papyrus’ clone seemed to stutter wordlessly for a second, a faint blush creeping across his cheekbones. As if the realization that removing someone’s clothes –especially _publicly_ \- without their consent might be a bad idea had just _now_ crossed his mind. As if he were _just_ _now_ realizing that there were other people in the room to begin with.

 He shifted his torso a bit as if covering Sans’ nakedness and unbound soul from the other’s view. “i know!” The larger skeleton yelped defensively. “i’m not! –i’m just–SANS! just go see if you can get Undyne back here!”

There was a telling innocence in that gesture and within those words that Boss himself had long been bereft of. For all his scrutiny, for all his criticisms, Sans found this particular difference _refreshing_.

His own clone’s hands sunk down from his sockets to cover a big grin instead, eyes twinkling with a playful spark. He stifled a snicker, clearly enjoying his brother’s embarrassment, before he answered, “Mweh _heh_! –I’M ON IT!” Yet the little skeleton wasted no time bounding out the front door at Papyrus’ order, yelling back, “YOU CAN COUNT ON ME!”

The remaining imitation let out a breath of relief as soon as the door slammed shut, turning his attention fully back to Sans. He felt a slender hand carefully grip onto his shoulder again, steadying him. “you’re okay,” A familiar voice droned on, propping him up. Past the spots in his vision, Sans heard a chair scrape across the kitchen floor. Those large hands found his face again before he could fall, cupping his cheeks between the palms. As the black spots cleared dizzily from his vision, the shapes blurred into view.

The other was seated across from him. Chair pulled so close Sans’ knees touched the edge of the opposite chair. The taller’s long legs couldn’t possibly fit in that narrow space, so they were angled out to either side of the smaller skeleton, boxing him in. A long form was hunched over him. Hands supporting his head, angling it up towards his face, into two strikingly orange eyes set behind lidded sockets. A strong mandible. Sharp cheekbones.

Sans swallowed a nervous lump in his throat. He’d been expecting a clone, but maybe he hadn’t prepared himself to actually _see_ one. Bracing himself against the lie was so much more difficult when the evidence was sitting right in front of him.

Papyrus was _alive._

He grimaced, blinking profusely to try and make sure it wasn’t just his imagination or the spots lingering across his vision.

Those uncanny orange eyes flicked down to his chest. “guess i was right,” Sans saw the familiar face stifle a grimace of his own before the strange irises flicked back to his sockets. “but its much worse.” The stranger cracked a pitiful smile down at him with his brother’s face.

It really was Papyrus.

Or rather, it was an _imitation_ of Papyrus, but it wasn’t just _any_ imitation.

It was _cruel_.

“does it hurt much?” The drawl of his relaxing voice practically cooed. “looks like you got into some trouble, huh?” A hand softly cupped his chin, the thumb gingerly smoothing along his malleable cheeks. The behavior alone was strikingly unfitting for the face saying it, but it wasn’t just the behavior that was so off-putting about it all. In fact, in certain ways, even the facial features were different from Boss’. Unlike Boss’ fangs, this Papyrus’ teeth were blunt. Clean and spotless like the rest of his bones. Like he’d never seen a single battle. The eyes, too, were calmer than the ones he remembered –and such a mesmerizing shade of orange…

As if they’d been plucked straight out of a dream.

His dream.

Goddammit. What did they do? _What the fuck_ did Frisk _do_?

This wasn’t just any old fake! It wasn’t some _random_ Papyrus thrust before him. He recognized him. This was the _exact_ same one from his dream –from the dreams he’d been avoiding for nights and nights on end. The ones that kept him from sleeping. The one where Papyrus hadn’t ever had a single bad thing happen to him. Where he was left unscarred and flawless. Where they were happy together. On his bed. And Sans had taken that precious person and he had –had–

– _the feel of his weight against him and the smell of their sheets_ –

The flush was instinctual. Boss had even found him shortly afterwards. He was so ashamed of himself. He didn’t want to remember all that! Hell, he was trying not to think about it at all!

 Was this a fucking _joke_ to them?! Was the kid laughing somewhere? Is this why they were interested in his dreams? Did Frisk think it was _funny_ to replace his real brother with one from a _wet dream_? What kind of sick sense of humor did the kid have? Surely, they didn’t think he actually wanted this? That he would _ever_ accept such an abhorrent replacement!

R-replacement…?

Sans’ bones chilled at the stray thought.

 This _wasn’t_ a replacement, was it? When Frisk said he’d see Papyrus again; this _wasn’t_ what they meant …right?

Thi–This _thing_ was every regret he’d ever had combined into one! It was a walking _nightmare_ of all his guilt and sin and shame. Th-this wasn’t how he _wanted_ him to be! He didn’t _want_ something _different_. He didn’t want a damn thing changed! He was wrong to have ever thought that! He’d take him as he was! He just wanted his _real brother_ back!

He wanted _Boss_ back!

Sans slammed his eyes shut and tried to pull away from the imposter. Using all of his pathetic efforts to shake his head free of the foreign hands.

This was _NOT_ his Papyrus.

Hell, he didn’t even know if this was anything like the harmless Papyrus from his dream either. He could literally just be an imitation. For all he knew this fake could be just as dangerous as any other monster in the entire Underground –and, right now, he was _completely_ at his mercy. Half naked. Weak.

Unable to keep the energy up, his head quickly fell, hanging lifelessly over his seat once again. The struggle short lived as he fell still once more.

“…are you mad at me?” The other asked, yet there was a honeyed fondness that dipped every word. A smirk to his voice like he was happy to just be _speaking_ with Sans. “you know, i really did only take it off for _medical reasons,_ ” The other teased sweetly as he caught Sans’ limp head by the jaw with a single hand. He hooked a foot around the rung on Sans’ chair, scooting eagerly to the front of his own seat. Even _closer._

It was impossible _not_ to look at him as he angled his head back up.

_“_ forgive me?” Those orange eyes begged with the edge of a playful banter, yet Sans could feel his other hand, too. There was nothing funny about it. It was slipping up his ribcage. Pressing into the unbound cavity of his empty chest. Tracing up his spine as it searched between his ribs.

He supposed that was all for _medical reasons,_ too, huh? He couldn’t keep the discomfort off his face. This was clearly a violation of his privacy. Not that he hadn’t had his privacy violated a thousand times before in a thousand different ways. But this was making him _think_ of all of those violations now and _how_ exactly would this time be any different than those?

He needed to start blotting this out. Start forgetting it. Brace himself for the worst. It would end quicker if he didn’t make it entertaining. Just stay still. Stay calm. He knew how to do this. The foreign hand continued to rise inside him. Uninvited. Invading.

The most pathetic cry slipped past his fangs.

“…Nh!”

Shit. He’d messed it up already.

The hand froze.

The smirk slowly fell off Papyrus’ face, draining whatever cheer he had managed to muster. His orange eyes flicked between Sans’ two hollow sockets, resigning themselves to a simple realization. He swallowed guiltily before he spoke again.

“i won’t hurt you,” the other breathed soothingly, trying to force a smile back, yet failing. He wasn’t playing around with him anymore. An almost abrupt switch. This tone was grim and serious in comparison. Genuine _._ “i promise, you’re safe. ok?”

Fuck. He was almost tempted to believe him.

Yet less than a millisecond after that promise; he was immediately betrayed. Sans felt a fist clutch around his soul. Around _him._ He could feel all five fingers close in around himself. His sockets grew as large as dinner plates, but he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from the other Papyrus’ face. Frozen. A silent scream died in his throat as he tried to protest, but no sound came out. He felt that hold surrounding him grow hotter and hotter.

His bones had been on fire, but he hadn’t realized before how empty his chest had felt in comparison. Now, that heat was spreading from the center of him, too. And as that heat grew… his bones seemed to get cooler in contrast.

Until his whole body was filled with warmth.

A dizzying, calming warmth that bloomed from his chest and seeped down every limp, unmovable limb. All of him felt heavy, dangling loosely off the ends of the chair. Surely, his head would have fallen, too, if Papyrus hadn’t held it up.

Was he relaxing? Involuntarily?

Sans’ jaw quivered in dread. He didn’t like the unnerving idea that he might not be completely in control of his own body. That there was even a chance he was this vulnerable in front of a downright stranger. That he was at this monster’s complete and utter mercy. He could _feel_ that hand on him. Lightly squeezing against his most helpless part as his soul pulsed against the fist in turn. It was a slow soulbeat, but still, the nerves made it the fastest soulbeat he’d had in some time.

Technically, he was panicking –even if he didn’t have the energy to panic properly. He didn’t know _what_ was happening to him.

The lids of the other Papyrus’ eyes sunk a bit further over his sockets. The thumb on the hand cupping Sans’ head traced along his jawline. “uncomfortable?” He offered him a weak smile, “maybe it would feel better if i didn’t have my hand stuck up your chest, huh?” Mercifully, he pulled his hand out.

But he took the soul with it.

Sans exhaled a gust of air at the odd sensation of his soul dropping out of his chest. His head sunk further into the hand’s support, brow pinched in uncertainty. Did he feel good or bad? He really couldn’t tell. He just knew he felt _strange_. A shudder swept up his whole form as the hand, and consequently his soul, dislodged itself entirely from his ribcage. His hands twitched at his side.

The hell?

His hands actually _twitched_ at his sides. They were moving. _Responding_ to him. They still felt weak – _He_ felt weak in Papyrus’ hold. Frail. Defenseless. He hadn’t even felt safe when Boss had taken his soul. And now, this goddamn _imitation_ was holding it–holding the most fragile thing about him hostage!

In a panic, he used the sudden miracle of being able to move marginal distances to shift his head down to _see_ the offending hand. _To see_ what was happening to him firsthand.

Sure enough, Papyrus’ fist was resting between their legs in his lap, gently holding onto something that didn’t belong to him. A brilliant golden glow shone from his entire palm, under lighting both of them in the same color. Magic perhaps? Was he casting a spell? But it didn’t resemble any spell Sans had ever seen before. Yet, the thing that was the most out of place from the scene before him was what this Papyrus was holding. It _should_ have been his soul, but the scraggly, deformed shape in the skeletal palm didn’t _look_ like a soul. Not really. Instead of the vibrant red he was used to, this object was severely desaturated. Verging on gray. It was fragile and splintered with an intricate web of cracks criss-crossing across the entire shape. Or…what was left of it.

It was only half of a heart.

_Half_ of his soul.

Sans froze with a start, empty sockets locked onto the horrible sight. What the fuck did that mean? Was he dead? Dying? Did only _half of him_ exist?

His forehead pressed into the chest in front of him as Papyrus hunched in closer towards him, that soothing drawl resounding right near his ear. “looks pretty bad, doesn’t it?” The fist squeezed a bit tighter around him in concern, rubbing the soul gently between the fingers.

Ahn. Fuck. He could _feel_ that.

Sans shivered. His soul was way too delicate to have some stranger playing around with it! With what little energy he seemed to have regained, he grabbed onto the orange sleeves, trying to pull the hand away. But he wasn’t _that_ strong. He wasn’t strong at all. His hands just furled into the orange fabric instead.

The thumb swirled against him.

Sans exhaled again. This time the sensation left his mouth agape as the warmth churned through his whole body. He panted through his fangs. His empty sockets were _locked_ on every minute, miniscule movement the fist made. Did this Papyrus _realize_ that every slight move he made had a direct effect on him? He squeezed. Sans shivered. He rubbed. Sans melted. He was starting to feel light-headed getting played like this.

No. He bet this Papyrus knew _exactly_ what he was doing to him. Leaving him so completely at his mercy like this. This was manipulation plain and simple.

Sans tried to fight it. Using what little semblance of strength he’d regained to struggle. He squirmed in his seat. Yet his legs were twined between the chairs; trapped. No matter how hard he pushed against the other’s arms, his attempts were feeble at best. There was no escape.

 “shh. no, no. hey,” That comforting drawl cooed. A hand at his back stoked up and down his spine in a calming gesture. “you’re okay. you’re okay, i promise,” The fraud reassured, easing closer.

Don’t get _closer._ He could feel the other tempting his soul. Brushing against him. ‘Persuading’ him to ease back down into the comfort of the chest in front of him. Slowly, he lost the fight. His forehead sagged against his captor’s hoodie, mind flooded and dizzy from all the sensations. From the warmth.

He caught sight of a smirk lift his captor’s mandible, who breathed a sigh of relief, “at least it seems to be working.”

He was right.

Slowly, color was returning to the damaged piece. It was starting to light back up. A crimson hue now colored the soul, lit from within. It was starting to beat again –at a normal pace! Or maybe his slowed soulbeat was just beating so fast by now it only seemed like a normal pace?

Papyrus’ other hand slipped behind his head, pulling him a closer. Burying his face in the hoodie until he lost sight of the spell, obscured by the fabric. The thumb rubbed a calming circle into the base of his skull. It kicked off an erratic fluttering pulse in his soul. He felt so damn nervous to be touched–!

“your bones don’t seem as soft as they were before either,” Papyrus noted, thumbing the base of his skull. “that’s good.” He hesitated, “…but that means we should probably get the rest of these clothes off of you, too.”

The spare hand left his head to drop to his knees. He tucked Sans’ legs in between the slit of the two chairs, lifting them up. Half distracted by the touches to his soul, Sans was startled when his butt suddenly slid forward towards the other’s lap. The rest of him fell backwards in the new position. His weak hands desperately grabbed onto the front of the hoodie before he lost his balance completely, but they didn’t really have the strength to help. Luckily, the arm with his soul caught his back before he fell too far. Papyrus’ other hand lifting up a leg by the knee.

 “we don’t want them to end up stuck to you,” he explained.

Quite the contrary, Sans would have _zero reservations_ if his pants were permanently stuck to him until the end of time. But that didn’t seem to stop this Papyrus. He pulled Sans closer, until he’d smushed his face into one wide shoulder. He pulled his leg, causing Sans’ lower half to slide even _closer_ against him as well. And it was all moving way too fast for his light-headed mind to keep up with.

A tint of crimson lit his face when he felt the free hand tug the hem of his shorts. Before he could fully process it, Papyrus hugged him close, squeezing the little form as he leaned them both backwards. Lifting Sans a bit off the chair. He would have protested, but the hand squeezed his soul at the exact same time. So instead, he shuddered wordlessly as his shorts were yanked down past his hips.

He felt those same stinging strands snap away as his pants slipped nearly off the pelvic bone. Yet it seemed to hurt a margin less than before as the spreading warmth quickly flooded any of the burns. Soothing them away.

Papyrus set him back down, Sans’ reddening face still pressed into his shoulder as his brain caught up to the situation. He flinched when fingers dipped inside his pants again, trying to shimmy the waistband down off the front of his hips. This time he fought. Or wiggled. It wasn’t exactly easy for the other to remove his pants while one handed –especially not with how closely they were pressed against one another. Almost claustrophobically close; his feet bunched between them. His squirming certainly didn’t make it any easier. Or the fact that he had to be supported just to remain upright.

He tried to open his mouth, but the words turned into a heavy pant as the thumb rubbed against his soul again, forcing him to relax. He sunk into the shoulder, squirming calmed. Eyes falling half-lidded over his own sockets. His fists that had been furling into the hoodie loosed a bit as he lost himself, panting against the larger form. Yet trying to fight every sensation he felt.

Papyrus shamelessly took advantage of it, tugging one leg down to mid thigh.

Goddamn it. Cheater.

The only thing he could think to do was split his legs, shoving one to either side of Papyrus’ torso. It was the best prevention he could think of. So he did that. As long as he used the other’s body as a blocker, he couldn’t possibly take his pants entirely off. At this point he was barely on his chair anymore, practically sitting in Papyrus’ lap. Leaned so far back, almost his entire weight was supported by the other’s other arm. His legs writhed nervously out to the sides unable to find any purchase.

Still, Papyrus tried to remove the garment, snapping away sticky strands as he steadily shuffled each pant leg further and further down his legs, until they started to bunch around his spread knees. Pap snagged the waistband and gave it a good tug, but Sans caught the crotch with his own two hands. Face blasted completely crimson over the other’s shoulder.

He heard Papyrus sigh in his ear over their shuffling. “come on,” that calm drawl reasoned, “don’t be so stubborn.”

Wrestling for the hem of his pants, Sans barely stuttered out above a whisper, “f–f-Fuck off.”

The form froze against him as if he’d cast some kind of paralysis spell. Hand still caught on his pants, the other skeleton went completely stiff as if his brain had been shut down. Truly, _genuinely_ shocked Sans had just formed a legible noise in protest.

Slowly, Papyrus let go of his pants. Resting the hand instead behind his back to help support the little form’s weight along with the other. It was practically a hug.

“ah,” the taller breathed in a surprisingly contented way, “so he _can_ speak.”

Did he imagine it or did Papyrus nuzzle his head a little closer _after_ getting cussed out?

Sans shivered as the hand squeezed his soul a bit tighter, losing his voice for those brief seconds of sensation.

He had to fight it!

He blinked away those relaxing urges to muster up his courage. “G-geffoffa’fe,” he managed to mumble weakly into the shoulder, but most of his words ate hoodie, so it sounded more like a garbled mess. Still, it was a weird sensation to finally have words consciously make it past his throat. Yet it was probably a good thing they had lodged somewhere in his windpipe along with his nerves. That particular plea wouldn’t have sounded convincing at all.

Too much fear shaking the voice.

“if we don’t take them off now and you continue to solidify; they might end up welded to your bones,” the drawl warned, “then, we’ll have to cut them off of you later. it won’t be pleasant.”

Sans panted against the shoulder, trying to still his nerves amidst their temporary truce. Silent. Not because he was considering that logic as sane! Oh no. This shouldn’t even be a debate, honestly.

“i won’t look,” The other suggested to the silence as if that might be the tipping bargaining chip.

Of course it wasn’t. He had so many issues with this other than the possibility of Papyrus simply _seeing_ him naked. Foremost, he didn’t want to end up naked and defenseless in front of strangers anymore. He didn’t trust that prospect in the _slightest_ –he didn’t trust this _person_ in the slightest.

“ _Get offa’ me_!” He managed to spit out a bit clearer past his fangs, squeezing his eyes shut with the effort. He was hoping this one would sound hostile. Threatening. Instead, it just sounded scared.

His soul pounded furiously against the fist, betraying his own rising terror.

Of course, the other could feel it all.

“ok. ok, you’re alright,” Papyrus reassured the sudden spike in pulse, hugging him tighter. His fingers rubbed soothingly against the pounding soul, swirling warmth into him. Distracting him. The motion made Sans feel a bit dizzy. Relaxed.

He didn’t _want_ to feel relaxed. He was being violated!

“we don’t have to take them off then,” Papyrus hummed after he’d calmed Sans down a bit. “how ‘bout we do this?” He took one hand and stuck it in the opposite side of the pants leg. He lifted Sans’ leg as he spun his hand several times in a circle around his knee through all the loose room in the pants.

Sans winced as it snapped away any gooey strands that were still stuck on the shorts, but the warmth quickly flooded the pain away.

“and the other,” Papyrus rocked them, shifting position. Sans felt the soul get passed off to a new hand behind his back. Then, he did the same motion to the other pants’ leg, using his hand to break any lingering strands. “there,” He rolled them back to center, “now, if we’re lucky, maybe we won’t have to take them off at all.”

Sans was left speechless, loosely clutching the front of the hoodie, as Pap tried to tug his pants back up over his pelvic bone. Eventually succeeding; the fabric sat snuggly back over his crotch once more.

He hadn’t been expecting him to actually _listen_.

“better?” Papyrus asked once the pants were back around his waist.

Sans’ blush only grew, spreading across his whole face. Why did he feel so embarrassed? It wasn’t like _he’d_ done anything wrong. He just didn’t want to get stripped by a stranger! It was perfectly reasonable! Had he overreacted? Had he misunderstood? Why did he feel so guilty right now?

Slowly, unable to find any words, he reluctantly nodded his crimson flushed face into Papyrus’ shoulder.

He heard the larger skeleton sigh a relieved breath between his teeth. “good,” The other smiled, stroking the back of the bright red skull lightly with his free hand. “but you’ll have to at least let me take off the shoes, ok?”

Sans nodded again, burying his face in the fabric. His fists tightened into the hoodie, pulling it close enough to hide his embarrassment. God, he felt so stupid. Was it possible this Papyrus _was_ just trying to help? And Sans had been making it hard for him with all his goddamn paranoia.

“can you lift your leg?” The other inquired.

He immediately obeyed, lifting one leg up timidly. Papyrus caught the foot, tugging off the sneaker. Two long fingers dipped between the sock and his ankle. Then, ripped the fabric away from his foot as quickly as he could manage.

Sans only flinched a little bit.

“you’re doing great,” the drawl of the relaxing voice lavished Sans with unearned compliments as a hand softly pet the back of his skull again. “and the other?”

He felt his soul pass hands like he himself was being passed along. The surreal sensation of several fingers skimming his sides compelled another shiver to rise through his spine.

Sans let the first leg flop back across Papyrus’ knee again, then lifted his other leg after recovering. It took some effort on his part, but he figured he couldn’t make Papyrus do everything. The man only had two hands. The larger skeleton removed the shoe and sock in much the same manner as the other leg. Quickly. In the most painless way he could manage.

Not that the warmth didn’t flood away any sting that did arise.

That was all thanks to that spell, wasn’t it? Papyrus was definitely still casting that golden spell. He hadn’t stopped once. Sans could still feel the fingers around him. He could still feel every minute little pulse that pressed against him. Every finger that traced his being. All the warmth that was being pressed into him at a constant, steady pace. It was enough to fog his brain.

What was he feeling? Truly feeling?

He certainly felt _better_ , but he also felt more lax –more _docile_ in this Papyrus’ arms.

Did he feel more inclined to assist this Papyrus because of his own conclusions? Or was it because of this damned spell? Hadn’t he already decided it was _manipulative_ at best? Should he even be trusting this Papyrus? Was his paranoia truly misplaced?

Sans dared a glance at the fake, peeking away from the hoodie.

The strange Papyrus relaxed against him, resting his hands behind Sans’ back. Yet his hold was a bit looser than before. His arms a bit more slack, unable to provide the support they had offered before. This Papyrus’ eyes were lidded, too. It made him look tired. From this proximity, Sans could even make out the heavy bags beneath the sockets. Thick and darkened from many nights of troubled sleep.

Those orange eyes flicked over to him.

The flash of tangerine irises sent a flurry of nervous pulses throughout his soul. He instantly looked away, stiffening.

The other chuckled lightly at his shyness, “feeling better?”

Just hearing words spoken from a living Papyrus did, _technically_ , make him feel ‘better’. It was thanks to his efforts that Sans felt like he _could_ talk now –as if he were physically capable of it.

He parted his fangs, about to give his normal reply, “Y–,” when he realized his error. “– _ah._ ” He barely managed to swallow down his automatic reply of, ‘ _Yes, Boss_ ,’ before it could be heard.

How stupid of him.

 “think you could sit up on your own?” The inaccurate portrayal of his brother ventured.

“…Yeah,” He croaked out instead. He actually did. For once, he actually felt capable of supporting his own weight. So, he did that. Gradually, he leaned away from Papyrus’ soft arms, his legs still planted across the other’s lap. His fists sunk down the front of the other’s torso, pulling lightly at the hoodie. Still a bit breathless as the spell between them took his soul hostage. It’s golden glow bathing them both in light.

If Boss could see him now, sitting timidly across a stranger’s lap; he would call him an embarrassment for sure. Could he really blame this on that spell, too? Why was he being so docile? So _damn_ obedient to him?

Was it because he looked like Boss?

Thinking like that would get him in trouble. He should know better. He _did_ know better.

The strange Papyrus looked the smaller skeleton up and down, then smiled at him. A beaming, gentle smile that made him feel… uncomfortable.

Boss wouldn’t make a face like that.

Sans found himself ignoring the other’s uncomfortable gaze entirely. Once again unable to look the uncanny impersonation in the eye. Not even _discreetly_ avoiding him –outright ignoring him- just like he had avoided all those dreams up to this point with sleepless nights. The effects of the spell were still blurring through his mind. So, he didn’t even know if what he was feeling could be trusted. His mind was racing as fast as his goddamn pulse –and he was sure this Papyrus could physically _feel_ that. Feel every time his pulse picked up.

So, instead, in an effort to keep the beat down, he allowed his eyes to wander past the skeleton to the strange room beyond. To the bright wallpaper, the clean floors, then across the baubles and pictures which made it absolutely clear they weren’t sitting in _his_ sham of a home. Hadn’t there been a wreath on the front door? Boss and him had never decorated. There hadn’t been anything as stupid as an apron in his house either. Did they cook here often? He glanced to the dining table next to them. There was still an extra chair set at the table. Yet he had only owned two. There was never a need for more. The cup of water his clone had gotten out still sat atop a flawlessly undinged table. The surface never once privy to a slammed fist. The glass itself looked to be part of a much nicer set than anything Sans had ever owned, too. He wouldn’t have wasted the extra money on tableware. Eyes wandering, he tried his best to piece together the complicated puzzle of the people who lived here from their possessions alone.

He’d gotten lost staring. Imagining.

 He blinked as a large hand dipped into his vision, softly cupped his cheek, and pulled him away from his thoughts. The contact set his eyelights alight, fizzling weakly in the depths of his sockets, but they failed to reignite.

“looks like you _were_ a skeleton under all that mess, huh?” The other noted sincerely as his eyes roved over the now solid form.

Yet Sans still found himself trying to avoid the other’s gaze – _and conversation_ \- altogether as he leaned away from the gentle hand. Though, surely, his pulse was giving him away.

“–a tiny one at that!” The other grinned.

Sans frowned at that, finally turning disapproving sockets back on his taunter for the sake of his pride. “What of it?” He growled raspily.

Wasn’t he being suspiciously friendly? Honestly, what could this person possibly want out of someone who’d shown up half-dead at his house? It wasn’t like he had any money on him. And if he wanted a different reward; well, Sans wasn’t doing that anymore.

“just happy,” the other answered bafflingly. Papyrus’ expression softened as those orange eyes continued to bore into him. “you must’ve been through quite a lot to end up like that.” A wandering thumb traced the sleepless lines below his sockets.

Sans winced against the tender touch before his gaze sunk guiltily. He didn’t like that the other was trying to pry. “’G-guess so,” he muttered, avoiding the question. Still getting re-accustomed with the rasp of his voice as it passed through his throat.

The other didn’t press it. “know where you are?”

“…Snowdin?” He croaked out almost uncertainly, gaze wandering slowly back to the other’s familiar face. Was it even called Snowdin here?

“yeah, that’s right. you’re in Snowdin,” The other reassured his uncertainty. A thumb smoothing his cheek comfortingly for several seconds before he continued, “where are you from?”

Sans didn’t know how to answer that. They were literally standing in his house. He opened his fangs several times, but couldn’t decide on what to say. “…N-not here?” He finally muttered, brow pinching in confusion.

“oh?” Papyrus asked with a hint of comical disbelief in his tone. “from far away then?”

“Yeah,” Sans swallowed down the lie nervously, “‘Ya could say that.”

The other seemed to look him over then, while he stroked his cheek, taking in the full sight of the nervous skeleton in front of him. His orange eyes wandered over the countless unhidden nicks and scars marring his exposed bones. To his gnawed arm, to his cracked head, to his chest, and _lower._ Sans knew his eyes were roaming. He squirmed uncomfortably beneath that stare.

“ran away?” Papyrus speculated.

“…No.” Did he look that much like a kicked puppy?

“you want to go back?” He pressed hesitantly.

How that question _stung_ when it was asked through his brother’s face.

Did he? There wasn’t really anything to go back to. The real Boss wouldn’t be there if he returned. If he even _could_ return. But maybe Boss would want him to? If he went back, _Frisk_ would be there, right? If he could find a way back; he could get revenge for his little brother. He could kill the human once and for all. Take their soul. Maybe the monsters could even take down the barrier with it. Rumor was they only needed one more.

…But Boss _still_ wouldn’t be there.

So, what would be the point to any of that?

A conflicted expression warred all across his face. His silence must have spoken for itself. Threatening to settle permanently into the space between them.

Papyrus pinched his cheek and shook it for good measure.

“…Ow.”

“ok, don’t think too hard,” He teased with a lax grin, leaving Sans speechless, mouth agape as he stared up at the other with a stupid expression. His brother had never done anything quite like that. He usually only pinched his face when he was angry –and much harder- if Sans was ignoring him.

The imitation mercifully changed the question to something much lighter, carrying the conversation on.

The hand freed his rounded cheek. It hesitated for a second before Papyrus pointed back at himself instead, smiling. “know who i am?”

The question threw Sans for a loop. Baffled, he blinked up at the larger skeleton. Of course, he knew exactly who he was. This was Papyrus –or this world’s Papyrus. But he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to know that. Or if it would be weird that he knew that? Maybe he was ‘thinking too hard’? “’Ye –‘yer Pap _yrus_?” The words tumbled out uncertainly.

The other smiled weakly back at him, his grin faltering the slightest bit, but his eyes didn’t lose that kindness. “yeah,” he breathed, “yeah, that’s right. i’m Papyrus.” His hand sunk back to his lap. “it’s nice to meet you.” He didn’t look him in the eye for that last sentence.

Why did he sound so dejected? Not that Sans thought he was someone worth being happy to meet, but had he answered wrong or something? The other certainly moved on quickly, glossing over whatever the issue was.

 “so, what’s your name?”

Another simple question that threw him for a loop.

 “I’m,” How could he even explain? Would anyone believe him? There was already a _Sans_ here –a Sans who had a living, breathing brother _._ Didn’t they seem happy? “I–,” He couldn’t say that, could he? It felt intrusive. Or like he was stealing. He had a compelling urge to lie. As if something deep inside him told him he didn’t want to give this person his _real name_. “I’m R-Red,” He stuttered, gracelessly, forcing an awkwardly well-mannered smile.

Somehow that foolish name was the only thing that popped into his head when he needed one. A freaking _color_. Yet, stupid as it was, when it left his fangs, it sounded fitting. Like it was _his_ name.

“Red?” Papyrus asked skeptically, but he didn’t sound like he had much will to fight the claim.

“Y-yeah,” Sans –no, Red- countered defensively, “Got a p-problem with it?”

“your collar says differently, _Red_.”

He flinched.

One hand involuntarily shot up to obscure his nametag. – _He’d fucking forgotten about that_!– It jingled. He’d gotten so used to it! He didn’t want to explain _that_. Red –no, Sans’– face flushed fully crimson in a single soulbeat.

Oh fuck.

It had _Papyrus_ ’ name on it, too, didn’t it? Had he seen that part, as well? His other hand shot up to grab onto the collar, too, hoping he could block the whole engraving. His soul was beating a mile a minute, panickedly pulsing. His head sunk into the velvet liner on the inside of the collar, eyes cast shamefully to the side.

Papyrus just slumped back in his seat. Was he disappointed in him? His eyes fell from Sans’ face to the soul piece in his glowing palm. It was pulsing wildly, betraying all of Sans’ frayed emotions. He cupped the precious light with his other hand. “shhh,” He hushed gently, rubbing the damaged, little piece into submission.

Ahnn _hh_ –Fuck!– He could still feel that! He exhaled heavily against the fists curled into his collar. Jingling as he fell back against his own chair. A shiver rocked his spine.

Papyrus pampered the soul for several moments, until Sans stopped squirming. Until he was left a panting mess in his own seat, trembling hands barely clutching onto the nametag anymore. His legs still draped over the other’s lap. His soul’s pace had dulled down to an even beat, but the warmth flooding his head was downright criminal.

What in the actual fuck was that spell?

He recoiled when Papyrus shifted below him. As the taller form sat up with some effort.

“hey,” He started, leaning in closer, “how’d you get here, _Red_?” Deliberately choosing the false name.

– _Was he still going to call him that?!_ Even after knowing it wasn’t his real name? Wait. W-was he in trouble? For lying? His Papyrus always had a pretty short fuse. _Especially_ for lies.

Instinctively, ‘Red’ scrambled backwards as Papyrus leaned in, pulling himself out of his lap. Scuttling his feet back across the chairs, until his knees tucked close to his chest in his own seat.

Papyrus placed one hand on the back of the chair behind him, practically blocking him in, as the taller form leaned heavily against it. His head drooped low, right in front of the smaller’s vision.

“where are you _really_ from, Red?” He asked with weary eyes.

Red couldn’t press himself back any flatter against the chair.

“what happened?”

Boss’ clone sunk a bit further against the chair and, by extension, sunk a bit further against _him._ Until only his elbow supported him instead of his hand. His head dangling just above Red’s shoulder. The little skeleton, of course, was petrified. Sockets huge.

“hey,” he heard Papyrus breathe out right next to his ear, “are you ever going to tell me the truth, Red?”

He sounded so defeated. So broken and taxed. His hand was trembling the slightest bit around his soul. He could feel it.

Why did he feel so _guilty_? He didn’t owe this stranger an explanation! “’Ya c-can let go now,” Red rasped out, still pressed back close to the chair. “I-I-I’m fine now.”

“you liar,” Papyrus chuckled. His head dropped right into Red’s shoulder. “you are definitely not ‘fine’,” He mumbled against the bone.

“I said let go,” Red muttered angrily, locking stiff as the weight of the other’s head pressed down into his shoulder. He leaned his head away in rejection. Yet he could still feel Papyrus’ breath against his bare neck.

The other sighed, slipping both arms behind Red’s back. “no,” he refused, “i won’t.”

“Get off’a me,” Red growled in the most dangerous fashion he could muster. He grabbed onto Papyrus’ orange sleeves in his tiny fists, squirming until his feet were pressed up against the other’s torso. Using the leverage to push him away.

Papyrus hardly budged.

“ _sorry, Red_ ,” he murmured against his neck. Red was taken aback by the gentle way the apology was spoken. The tone was something else. Something new. Something raw and honest. “but i don’t really care who you are,” He squeezed him a bit tighter.

An involuntary blush lit Red’s cheeks.

“Hey–” He started, trying to muster his anger. “Are ‘ya listenin’ ‘ta a damn thing I’ve said?” His soul was pounding in the other’s grip. Frantically trying to decipher this situation.

“i’m sorry, Red,” Papyrus said sincerely. “i don’t wanna scare you, but let me help a little while longer.” He felt the long arms slip down behind his back. Loose. The larger form now weighing a bit _too_ heavily into his shoulder. He felt like a ton of bricks.

It was only _then_ that Red realized that something was very wrong.

Papyrus was barely moving now. When, just minutes ago, _he_ had been the one who couldn’t even lift his head.

“H-hey, I said get off,” Red insisted. A nervous stutter working its way back into his voice.

“i won’t,” Papyrus muttered weaker.

A thumb rubbed against his soul again. Distracting him again. Pressing warmth into him –No! It was pressing _magic_ into him. That’s what that sensation was. It wasn’t a _miracle_ that he was moving right now. There was no such thing as fucking miracles. This spell the imitation had been casting the whole time –It was a fucking _siphon_ , wasn’t it? It took from one place and gave to the other.

 He was moving right now because he’d taken _Papyrus’ magic_.

“H-h-hey! What did you do?!” Red asked panickedly, “I said get off!” He struggled twice as much, pushing with both legs, but the other’s weight was already leaning too heavily into him. He wasn’t that strong yet, anyway.

“calm down, Red. it’s okay,” That calming drawl droned on. So faint he was barely conscious.

“It _‘ain’t_ ok!” Red snapped loudly, spinning angrily on the skull face-down in his shoulder. “What THE HELL are ‘ya doin’?” He demanded thunderously into the other’s ear to no answer. He couldn’t let this happen. “Where is it?!” He knew it was behind him. He spun this way and that trying to find the soul. Damn Papyrus’ long arms! “I didn’t ask ‘fer this! _Let go of me!”_

Papyrus cheated. He swirled his thumb into the fragile little soul. Into _him._ Red’s outburst ended with him stifling back a moan. “H _hn_ –!” His hand shot up, covering his fangs. Clamping his mouth shut as a tremor shook his spine. But Papyrus didn’t stop there. He kept going. _Playing_ with his soul.

Damn _cheater._

Red trembled, unable to fight against the invasive sensation. It dipped deeper. He flinched, involuntarily shooting an arm out to shove the other away. Yet he obviously didn’t have the strength to do that. His palm just pressed into the large chest, only pushing him back by a margin. He let out a heavy breath that had been building up behind his fangs. His hand curled into a fist against Papyrus’ chest. He tried to turn his surely crimson face away from the monster leaning into him.

“shh, shh,” A large hand curled around his outstretched hand. A wandering thumb tracing over the small, solid fingers, “it’s just healing magic,” he shushed gently, “i’m not gonna hurt you.”

One hand caught, Sans leaned his growing blush into the back of his other elbow. Fighting how his jaw quivered with every touch. His eyelights flickered dimly back and forth between his sockets. “ss –to-,” The whisper died, lost in his surrender.

Papyrus kept going. Even pressed close; the sound was faint.

_Crack._

Red’s eyes went huge. The faint sound booming damningly within his mind like the electricity that had torn Boss apart. That wasn’t the sound of _his_ soul. No. That was definitely the sound of _Papyrus’_ soul breaking.

Again. Papyrus was going to sacrifice himself for him _again._ He was going to cause Papyrus’ death _again._ He’d have to _watch_ Papyrus _dust_ again _._

– _The image of the cracks spreading and light bursting from the soul_ –

Why was he doing this? He wasn’t worth it! He wasn’t worth _any of it._

He couldn’t fucking do this again! He _wouldn’t_ do this again!

“ssstop – _Stop it_! STOP!” He finally screamed; far beyond just a mere panic. He was _desperate_.

With gravity, he gripped Papyrus’ soul with his stolen magic and threw that precious life away from him with everything he had. Despite draining Papyrus to near-death; he didn’t even have enough magic to send him flying away as he’d intended. Yet it was plenty enough to burst the idiot backwards. The larger skeleton’s spine smacked into the back of his chair, which scrapped back along the tile a short distance with the force. Then, it toppled over. Sending Papyrus’ limp body rolling out of the seat backwards.

Nothing more than a puppet with its strings cut; Red dropped right where he was. In fact, he could _feel_ the exact moment the siphon keeping him up snapped away. Hollowed once more, he tipped off the side of the chair as the stolen magic leaked out, crumpling into the fetal position against the spotless tile. “Stop. Stop it, please. Stop _helpin_ ’,” His cry echoed weakly, cradling his head as his eyelights guttered out. Trying to curl into a ball so small the world lost him.

With his lifeline thrown across the room, slowly, even Red’s trembling grew very, very still.

The shambled piece of his soul fell between them, just as broken as it was when this first started. The crimson glow that had lit it from within dimmed back towards a dull, lifeless grey, but it didn’t snuff out entirely. Color pulsed faintly from within the depths of the broken shell, dying it the slightest tint of red.

 

 

“HEY, UH, PAPY?” Red finally heard the front door jingle in the distance as the _real_ Sans returned. The one who deserved the damn name. The one that _hadn’t_ nearly killed his own brother.

Twice.

It didn’t take him long to find the mess.

“OH MY STARS! WHAT HAPPENED HERE?” He saw the blue boots come sprinting into the kitchen, skidding to a stop in front of his hollow sockets. The little form twisted and turned between the two skeletons fallen to the ground. “HEY, ARE YOU TWO OK?!” He asked apprehensively. A dumb question when _neither_ of them were moving. That obvious concept slowly seeping into the startled skeleton’s addled mind. Even though Red was closer; Sans rushed to Papyrus’ side first.

Good choice.

The little form hopped over the chair, falling to his knees next to the motionless form of his brother. Gently cradling his head off the ground, he called, “BRO. HEY! CAN YOU HEAR ME?” He shook the lanky form more urgently, “GET UP! I DON’T LIKE THIS JOKE!”

No response. Red could practically _feel_ the panic rising in the air, twisting the once pleasant atmosphere.

_This_ was _his fault_. All his fault.

_He_ was the problem. There was no doubt in his mind the panicked, desperate skeleton hunched over the motionless form would have _never_ let Papyrus get this bad. His brother had been so spotlessly unscarred; and Red had been here less than a day and now that same Papyrus wasn’t even _moving._

“PAPY, _HEY_ ,” The voice broke for a second in the silent kitchen. “WAKE UP! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HEALTH?” He rolled the form over almost violently, frantically pushing the larger skeleton onto his back. That golden glow bloomed from the other side of the figures again, lighting the room for a brief moment in a radiant shimmer. Dimming the desperate forms into silhouettes in the distance.

Papyrus didn’t move.

His maximum health not only sat at a measly _one_ HP; but currently it was even _lower_ than that. Sitting at a fraction of what it should be.

So very fragile.

What had he done to him? Papyrus wasn’t supposed to be that weak. Was that his fault, too? An effect of the spell? He hadn’t pushed him away fast enough; was that it? Was that why he was being punished right now? He’d have to watch the whole thing this time, wouldn’t he? Watch Papyrus _dust_ –

A nonsensical groan mumbled up from the motionless form.

“PAPY!” The blue one wailed, pure relief on his voice. Red’s feelings, too, fluttered at the call. That healing magic was really something else –even if it _was_ a dangerous siphon.

_Thank the stars_ ; he wasn’t going to dust! Imitation or not, Red couldn’t handle killing two Papyruses in the same day. Losing one had already taken half his soul.

“YOU’RE OKAY,” The better Sans cried, the light dimmed away. He sunk down in his seat, relaxing heavily into his bones. “JEEZ. DON’T SCARE ME LIKE THAT! YOU NEED TO TAKE BETTER CARE OF YOURSELF. AT LEAST DO IT _FOR ME,_ ” He sighed out exaggeratedly in the stiff room, not alarmed in the slightest that he was lecturing what was clearly an unresponsive person. Blue took a brief moment to gather himself, then hopped to his feet, hovering over the fallen skeleton, hands on hips. Energy renewed. “I WAS WORRIED, YOU KNOW,” He scolded his brother, “YOU’VE GOT TO BE MORE CAREFUL. COME ON, I’LL GET YOU IN BED.”

He grabbed the larger skeleton under him, wrestling his torso into his hug of a hold. Papyrus groaned unconsciously again. Then, with that impressive display of strength, the little skeleton started dragging him back out of the kitchen by his torso, allowing his brother’s longer legs to drag along the floor. It was done so casually, Red couldn’t help but get the impression that this was far from the first time that this Sans had to drag his brother to bed.

As if he’d had the whole event down to an efficient system by now.

The blue Sans made it to about the kitchen archway in his usual routine, when he dropped Papyrus seemingly on a whim.  “THAT’S RIGHT!”

Blue eyes glanced back over at the second motionless skeleton; lying across the tiled floor.

Red was sure he’d be coming back for revenge. Dusting him for almost killing his brother only seemed fair. That’s what _Sans_ would do.

 His clone appeared over him, hands on hips, standing over the little traitorous ball for a few seconds. He blinked down at his mirror who was tucked into the fetal position curiously, cocking his head to the side. Then, he reached down and pulled the second motionless skeleton up off the floor. He propped Red against the nearby chair, so that he was sitting upright. Blue pat his shoulders twice, like he was flicking off any dirt that might have gotten on the lifeless puppet. He smiled into the vacant sockets, “WAIT RIGHT HERE, I’LL BE BACK SOON! OK?”

Somehow, Red felt like he’d much rather be hit.

Blue’s scarf flying out behind him, he bounded back to Papyrus again, grabbing his brother by the middle under both armpits. “ALRIGHT, BIG GUY, LET’S GO,” He huffed, dragging the larger form backwards until they’d disappeared out of sight up the stairs. Sans heard the shuffling continue overhead. Then, a door finally open and close.

It was a while before Red heard footsteps on the stairs again. Blue pranced back into the kitchen several minutes later, coming to a halt next to his doppelganger. He crouched down next to the lifeless doll waving one gloved hand in front of the vacant sockets. “HELLOOO?” He asked, trying to catch Red’s attention.

He didn’t catch it. He didn’t even come remotely close.

“YOU SEEM SOLID AGAIN!” He said cheerily, grinning at him. “THAT’S GOOD, RIGHT?”

No response.

“ARE YOU STILL NOT FEELING WELL?” He ventured to more silence, tilting his head curiously. His big cerulean eyes followed Sans’ empty gaze out to the kitchen, wandering in the direction the motionless skeleton seemed transfixed towards, but he didn’t spot anything unusual other than the overturned chair and discarded clothes.

His gaze spun back to Red’s face, eyes dipping towards the bare chest for a split second, then snapped back up. Timidly, a slight blue blush colored his cheeks. He laughed nervously, “MWEHEH~” looking purposefully up and away from the scarred bones, trying not to make his eyes linger on the other’s naked injuries.

He smiled nervously back down at the unresponsive skeleton, making sure his eyes stuck to his face this time and not lower. The chubby skeleton clapped his hands to his knees as he rose, half bent over like he was talking to a small child, “HEY, HOW ‘BOUT WE GET YOU A FRESH SHIRT? OKAY? I’M SURE ONE OF MINE WOULD FIT YOU.” He dragged Red closer, away from the chair, as he wrestled him back into his arms. He picked the marionette up much in the same way as he had before. A one-armed hug, with the other arm propping up his rump to keep Red’s legs from dragging across the floor. “UP WE GO!” He chirped, heaving the identical form into his arms.

Red dangled limply in his hold, head hung over his shoulder like before. Hollow sockets watched the aftermath of the kitchen disappear behind them as they walked up the stairs. Leaving the unrecognizable piece of Red’s soul lying defenselessly amidst the mess of the kitchen floor.

He felt his body grow heavier with every step they took up the stairs.

But Blue never once complained about the weight. Though, the chatterbox _did_ keep talking through the entirety of the trip. Red, on the other hand, found himself quite mute. “THIS DIDN’T TURN OUT QUITE AS PLANNED, HUH? I’M SO SORRY ABOUT UNDYNE, I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED.”

Red did. She was fucking terrified of him.

What he didn’t understand was; why? Certainly, he must’ve looked horrendous, but if this cupcake could stand to look at him, he didn’t think _Undyne,_ of all people, would be afraid of him. Her fear struck him as the type that ran much deeper than simply an undesirable appearance.

“I PROMISE SHE’S NOT USUALLY LIKE THAT. BUT IT’S A GOOD THING PAPY CAME BY, RIGHT? IT LOOKS LIKE HE FIXED YOU UP SOMEHOW. I MEAN AT LEAST YOU’RE NOT, YOU KNOW, _GOOPEY_ ANYMORE. BUT DON’T WORRY! WE’LL GET YOU BACK TO 100% SOON ENOUGH! THE MAGNIFICENT SANS WILL TAKE FULL RESPONSIBILITY!” He guaranteed, kicking in the door to the first room of the upper hall. “I’LL TALK TO UNDYNE FOR YOU AND THEN WE CAN GET YOU A REAL CHECKUP –WITH A _REAL_ DOCTOR! SOUNDS GOOD, RIGHT?”

Blue carried him into what Red knew to be the larger of the cabin’s two bedrooms. At his home, this was Boss’ room, but it didn’t look anything like what he was expecting. It was nothing like his brother’s totalitarian bedroom. All the walls were painted a vibrant blue. There was a bookshelf filled with children’s books set to one wall, a table littered with action figurines, and a computer with a rather squat chair placed at the desk. The whole room looked absurd. Like it had been concocted straight out of a child’s imagination.

Blue set the hollow bones down on an impossibly fluffy bed designed to look like a racecar. His doppelganger hovered for a second, ready to catch him when he tipped over, but it felt like his bones were anchored to the spot. All his limbs were lead-stiff, unable to move on his own. Whatever the case, Red managed to balance on his own.

Blue perked up happily at the progress.

“WAIT ONE SECOND,” he requested, spinning around. He disappeared into the closet on the far wall for a moment, emerging a few seconds later with a blue shirt with sunglasses printed across the front with the words ‘ _Mr. Cool’_ added inside the lenses. “TADA!” He skipped back over to Red, announcing proudly, “ONE MINT-CONDITION T-SHIRT JUST FOR YOU! ONLY THE BEST OF THE BEST FOR MY BUDDY. STRIGHT FROM THE MOST STYLISH CLOSET IN SNOWDIN.”

Red didn’t want to see the least stylish closet then.

His clone held up the shirt with a big grin, showing off the embarrassing blue garment. “IT’S VELVETY SOFT~” He said, brows wiggling over the top of the shirt.

Red made no effort to look impressed.

The better Sans made a show of helping the unresponsive skeleton into his shirt. He tugged it over his big head and assisted bending his arms through the sleeves. Red didn’t know about _velvety soft,_ but it was definitely a comfortable shirt despite its stupidity. Plus, he was glad to have something over his barebones again.

“THAT’S MUCH BETTER, ISN’T IT?” The chubby skeleton stepped back to view his handiwork, a grin widening across his face. “AWW! YOU LOOK SO GOOD,” Blue cooed, squishing his own cheeks in happiness.

Red didn’t know how that worked. Since they were practically clones, it was like giving yourself a compliment. Yet his eccentric half didn’t seem to mind such egotism whatsoever.

“OK. LET’S GET YOU TO BED.” The blue one gathered up one of the blankets from the bed. “THIS IS MY ROOM, BY THE WAY, YOU CAN STAY HERE TONIGHT –OR LONGER! YOU CAN STAY AS LONG AS YOU NEED TO. WE’LL SEND YOU BACK HOME ONCE YOU’RE BETTER,” He draped the blanket over Red’s shoulders and started winding the cloth around him until he’d formed a tight, little cocoon. Red made no protest, expression, nor semblance of recognition at all as Blue pushed him back onto the bed. He rolled back and forth across the mattress in his thick blanket bundle, eventually allowing gravity to decide which side he rested on.

He was facing the wall.

Blue gathered up the other blanket and draped that over him, too, then tucked the sides in. Successfully creating the largest heap of sheets to ever be completely unnecessary. He patted the top of the blanket bundle, pleased with his work.

“GOODNIGHT. GET SOME SLEEP NOW, YOU’VE HAD A LONG DAY. I’LL SEE YOU IN THE MORNING, OK?” He waved from the doorway, then flicked the lights off. The bedroom fell dark. Red heard his doppelganger shut the door behind him as he left, leaving the little skeleton alone to sleep in an unfamiliar room.

Everything was _wrong._

How could he _sleep_ knowing Boss wouldn’t even be there to wake him up in the morning? He was alive and Boss was gone. Just _gone._ He’d lived his entire life just to be with his brother. To protect him. To feed him. To help him succeed. They were supposed to stay together. He’d _promised_ him that! He may be a liar, but those had been more than just empty words! He’d _meant_ it! His little brother was _everything_ to him.

They were supposed to always stay together.

Yet, Boss had given up on him –on _their promise_ ; hadn’t he? He knew his little brother. Papyrus was a fighter. Yet that tiny, precious heart had definitely stopped struggling at the end. He’d given up. He’d given in. Most importantly, he’d lost _hope –in_ _him_.

He couldn’t get the image out of his head.

Had he thought Sans wouldn’t protect him?

Hell, if he did; he was _right_! He hadn’t done a _damn thing_ when Papyrus needed him the most! He had done nothing but _watch_ as his precious brother broke into a thousand little specs of dust and drifted away into Waterfall’s deepest abyss.

Now he was stuck _here._ Still alive.

Without him.

He deserved this. He deserved so much worse than this! He _should_ still be a melting abomination suffering for all eternity. _Why? Why on earth_ had that Papyrus gone so far to keep him together? They’d _just met._ He wouldn’t have done the same for him! He hadn’t even done the same for his own damn brother!

Was it because of the name on the collar?

_Sans_.

That was it, wasn’t it? If he were some no-name passerby; the Papyrus here wouldn’t have gotten himself hurt. It was because he was “Property of Papyrus” that it suddenly made him his problem. If he was just _‘Red’;_ this Papyrus wouldn’t have gone to such desperate lengths.

And how had he repaid him? Red had almost gotten him killed! He had looked so fragile lying there, motionless, on the floor just a few feet in front of him.

_One_ hit point.

Hell, he hadn’t even put in the effort to _check_ _on_ him! Would he have died if Blue hadn’t come back when he did? Would he have died if Red had thrown him just a _teeny_ bit harder? What would he have done if he had killed Boss a _second_ time?

No matter how he fought with himself, the truth was; he was solid now. Whether he deserved it or not. Thanks to that Papyrus, that burning fire was no longer coursing through his bones, searing away his body. Now, buried under all these blankets, he just felt… warm.

–and scared. And weak. A-and _guilty._

Make it stop. _Please._ It was all repeating endlessly in his head.

Darkness ticked by for several hours.

It was late when he was finally shaken from his turbulent thoughts. But not for any comforting reason that allowed him to relax. Oh no. It was because an _unusual pressure_ had joined the foot of his bed, alerting him of another presence lingering in the darkness. That weight was pressing down on his sheets. The silent visitor crept up the end of his bed one step at a time. The weight itself was light. Each footstep that pressed into his back was small. Each the shape and feel of _a paw_ , until the figure had climbed up to his shoulders. Looming over him.

His soulbeat quickened. No doubt drumming against the floor downstairs.

The hell? Did they have a pet in this timeline? A cat maybe? Though, he should know better. _Paws_ didn’t necessarily mean _pet_ in the Underground.

That lingering thought unhinged his nerves. Throwing what fragile sense of security he’d grown to the winds; he was now on high alert. Gradually, he became aware of the slight chill drifting into the bedroom. He knew the door was closed, but the window could still be wide open, letting the winter air in from outside.

Yet he couldn’t be sure. He was facing the wall.

“hOI! Sans, u awaKe?” An annoying squeak called, the voice abnormally broken as two paws pressed down onto the back of his head. “tEM haz com to see u!!”

A speaking pet was not good news, because a speaking pet wasn’t a _pet_ at all _._ It was an intruder. Left as a lifeless puppet, he could hardly defend himself against the trespasser. Hell, he couldn’t even move properly to begin with.

He could only endure –but he was sick of simply _enduring_ everything. He was sick of being protected as the helpless victim. He was _sick o_ f being at the mercy of everyone that waltzed into his life. Was he going to let another intruder take advantage of him? Take _everything_ away from him? Had Boss really given up his life knowing how helpless and defenseless his brother would be without him?

No, of course not, Boss expected him to protect himself. He’d said so. He said Sans didn’t need a knight or a hero or a savior. He was perfectly capable of handling himself; _“He just won’t.”_ Boss had only taken on that role because Sans wouldn’t.

And he was right.

Red _could_ do something now, couldn’t he? It would be difficult and strained and _hard,_ but he _could_ do something about it. He wasn’t nearly as frail as he had been when he’d first fallen down here. Hell the weakness he felt now was child’s play compared to earlier. The heaviness was nothing compared to the previous burn. Even if he couldn’t move, even if he was bound tightly in the blankets; he did have magic – _Papyrus’ stolen magic-_ at his disposal. Surely, he could do _something_.

So he _tried_.

The course of magic felt strained and thin. Yet despite his soul being so far away, despite how little magic he seemed to have retained; slowly, with _effort_ , a red bone formed above the bed, point aimed down.

“wake UP! wake up!” The animal didn’t seem to notice, pawing the back of his skull excitedly. “ur best friend, tEM, haz good news. news tEM knows Sans will LOV!!”

That speaking, that grammar. It was a temmie, wasn’t it? One of those little money hungry screwballs. They had the intelligence of a goldfish and were about as adept in conversation. The critters were a dime a dozen out in Waterfall. Yet he’d never seen one out this far in Snowdin, let alone breaking and entering. It couldn’t be up to anything good. He just knew it in his gut. He had a bad feeling. That grating squeak of a voice sounded too familiar.

 “R u going to ignore tEM?” The squeak taunted. “feeling down? r not enouff people taking Sans seriously agAIn? tEM’s good nEWs will hELp! tEM knowz just what u neED!”

Red still didn’t respond, as mute as the wall he was facing. He may have been able to summon the weapon with pure willpower, but he didn’t have the same confidence with his aim. The creature was a bit too close to his skull to just fire his weapon randomly. Not that Temmie had even given him a proper reason to fire – had he said something about ‘best friends’? – Yet it was just a lingering feeling of danger that compelled him to have the weapon ready. Something about this one was definitely off. He could _feel_ the creature’s beady, little eyes staring at him. His soul itself felt uneasy.

“A human,” it said –with suddenly perfect pronunciation.

Red flinched.

He nearly loosed the bone right there. But he didn’t. He held onto it. This conversation had just gotten a lot more valuable. He was more than just a little interested in rumors about _a human_. He had _a lot_ of complicated feelings about ‘ _a human_ ’ that he was just _dying_ to share with them.

The creature felt the movement beneath its paw. “dat’s right! dat’s rIGHt!” Temmie continued boisterously, resuming its flawed accent. “tEM predicts _a human_ will show up in Snowdin Forest soon! won’t all the pEOples LOV U if u brought them back a human?”

Was there really a human here? On one hand, he found that information hard to believe, but on the other, he couldn’t rule it out as impossible. Don’t tell him Frisk had followed him? But they knew how to work the machine. What would stop them from just coming through on their own?

His bones were heating back up.

 “u shOuLd set up ur traPS!! Dis is what u’ve been trAINing for! wat do u say, mR. MagniFICent SaNS?” Temmie hopped to the other side of the skeleton, leaning down into his face with a big, unsettlingly wide grin plastered across his face, “wANt to catch iT? catch it for tEM? catch it for everybOdY?” 

The creature paused a breadth away. Staring at the skeleton below him in the darkness. The cracked skull. The large fangs. The _abnormalities_ slowly dawned on the intruder.

It didn’t back away.

Instead, its eyes sunk into its skull, giving the animal a hauntingly ghost-like appearance. It only smiled _wider._ Wider than it should be able to. The grin twisting its face in a disturbingly horrifying manner, as if breaking the mask of the creature it was wearing. “You‘re not Sans,” It stated perfectly clear. The barest hint of danger creeping into the words.

Red didn’t care how close his skull was to the target. He dropped the bone.

The point crashed down to the sheets, taking everyone by surprise. Red mostly surprised that not only had he _missed_ his own skull; he’d actually managed to _hit_ his target, too.

The creature yelped, thrashing on the sheets in a furious blur of cusses. Red knew if he hesitated long that anger would easily be turned back against him. He had to move.

He pathetically tried to fumble his way out of the bundle of blankets, but he didn’t make much progress. His bones were so unbelievably heavy –so _stiff._ It was fucking _tiring_ to move. It was harder than summoning a bone on strained magic and near-empty, _borrowed_ reserves!

“WhY yOu–” Temmie snarled, dislodging the bone. A thick row of magical white pellets appeared in the air above him, twirling as if they were ready to launch.

Oh, fuck. He was still stuck. His body wasn’t reliable enough to move.

The pellets launched.

His magic _was_ reliable, though.

He grabbed the bed with gravity and pulled. The car tipped to its side, dumping them both out of the mattress into a heap of sheets and pillows. The gravity only held for a brief moment, wavering on his thinned reserves, then the car toppled back to its former position.

The missed pellets went ricocheting all over the room, toppling some books and knocking over action figurines. But, alone, the attacks were pretty weak. They didn’t do nearly as much damage as he was expecting; if any.

Red fumbled with the sheets. Desperate to even free himself from a simple _blanket_ with all the energy he had. His head finally popped free of its confines.

He was upside-down.

 A white furball skittered in front of his vision, scrambling away. He couldn’t let the human’s accomplice get away!

So, he reached out, plopping a heavy hand over the creature. Holding it down beneath his palm in an awkwardly difficult position.

It squirmed under his precarious grip, “LeT gO!” A visible gash from the bone on its front leg was stark red against his white fur as the creature thrashed. “Unhand me!” Temmie demanded with that demonic face, but he appeared to be more bark than bite.

That didn’t make it _innocent_ , though. That didn’t make it _not_ dangerous. From Red’s point of view, this creature was far from harmless! It had thought he was _Blue._ From the way it had talked, this creature had been trying to bait a much more naïve Sans into a deadly confrontation with a human, hadn’t he? Provided that even half of what he claimed was actually _true._

If there _was_ a human –the deadliest creature known in their entire history, certainly, this squeaky creature didn’t expect that bubbly blue version of him to survive an encounter with one. And if Temmie was lying; sending that naïve blue version of himself off deep into the woods somewhere certainly sounded like the perfect set up to an ambush.

Red should know.

But he was much more interested in _which_ sinister plot was true.

“H-h-human,” Red stuttered out gravely, struggling to hold the critter down with his waning strength. Struggling to speak at all. “You said a hu-human. _Is there?_ ” Red growled threateningly at the creature. “Te-tell,” He wheezed out, “ _Tell_ _me_ about them.”

“Ha. Ha. _Hah_!” The furball laughed spitefullly, kicking at his hand. “See if I give a daMN what happens to tHe LoT of yoU AftEr tHiS! Ur on ur OWN now!” He squirmed just enough to slip to freedom between Red’s fingers. The crafty creature dashed away with the slightest limp tilting his step, escaping out the bedroom’s open window into the winter night. Leaving a slew of unanswered questions behind him.

Red stared after the creature, sockets drifting down to the crimson liquid left beneath his hand.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter:  
> “Two-faced Temmie” bleeds.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Meaningless Author Notes:
> 
> CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE!
> 
> Hello, everyone! I would like to specifically dedicate this chapter to ChocoboFangirl who shall henceforth be knownth as the Bringer of Good Times!! Many of you survived Arc Two; I did not. Chocobo dragged my ass through there soldier-style, like a true hero!!! (Or maybe just poked my corpse every couple of days to make sure I was still alive xD) EITHER WAY It was super effective! We wouldn’t have made it without her. If you’re happy to see Pap and excited to meet Blue, please, if you can just type *glomp* on them for me down in the comments to help express my gratitude! Maybe we can dogpile her!!! >:D Mwahaha  
> Also, go give Bonitafaz a gigantic bear hug. Go! Right now! Because without them my lazy ass would probably never have gotten this chapter out. In fact, quite a few of you poked me this time around and I am forever indebted to you. Seriously. I mean, just say the word and I’ll go fetch you all a blood sacrifice. 0_0
> 
> (Kidding. Kidding! Please don’t request blood sacrifices in the comments!)
> 
> Ahem. Also, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry for the wait. I’m so afraid my apologies have turned into the boy who cried wolf story by now, but I really do feel like shit when the chapters take a long time to come out. Thank you for waiting. Thank you for poking. Thank you for believing I was still alive and that, some day, 80 years from now in the zombie apocalypse, I’d update the story for you. 
> 
> Because I will.
> 
> You know, if it comes to that.
> 
> I don’t want to bore you with my lame excuses. So, feel free to entirely skip this paragraph to the dancing bit. But I also feel the need to be honest with anyone who wants to know. The short version of my absence is; things just got a bit rough in my personal life. In January, my health took a poor turn –nothing serious!- but it requires medication. Right around the same time, I found out I’d be losing my job later this year. Well, medicine costs money. So, I’ve been working many overtime hours to save up wages. Simply, I just physically have not had the time to put into the story that I had before –But I haven’t stopped writing. NEVER. My writing time just got reduced to weekends only. Hopefully, in the perfect world, things will calm down a bit by the end of April when I get fired and we can pick the pace back up while I job hunt. Huzzah!
> 
> Don’t mind me. ~(‾▿‾~) ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ~(‾▿‾)~ Just dancing. *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ (~‾▿‾)~ My problems away.
> 
> But back to what we really care about: The Story!!
> 
> wow. Wow. WOW. I’m so fucking happy to be out of Underfell, you guys don’t even know! Well, no. Scratch that. Actually, you all do!!! You suffered there right along with me! I know Arc Two was hard and we didn’t always –or ever- deal with pleasant or enjoyable subjects, but I want to thank you for leaving such pleasant comments throughout the duration of it. I know the story was tough or depressing to read sometimes –and it was equally hard to write. (rape scenes are just hard to write, man.) Your excitement and encouragements at the end of chapters, all of them, really helped get us through this. Really. THANK YOU.  
> It kept me going knowing you guys were excited to read the next part.  
> For dealing with all my dark and edgy bullshit for all these months; you’ve more than earned what’s coming up next. Seriously. Thanks for waiting so long for this chapter –For this ARC! I’m sure many of you have guessed by now, but you are now standing where you probably wanted to be way back at the end of Chapter One. Excited yet?! There are good things to come! I promised I’d spoil Sans rotten after we got past that hell; and that starts now! For as much as I pre-warned that Arc Two was going to be tough and really trying; you survived it! And Arc Three is…  
> Well…  
> Arc Three is basically the opposite of that. Many laughs will be had. We get to hang out with Pap and Blue. I’ll make sure we get a full synopsis of Sans’ soul for anyone who hasn’t pieced together all the hints that have dropped. I mean, obviously, there’s still going to be problems coming our way. But, dammit, there will be cuddles this time! And fluff. And sexy times –the good kind! For as much as Arc Two was supposed to be unpleasant and terrifying –Arc Three is supposed to be a shit ton of fun. I hope I can get you to crack a smile or laugh as we drag ourselves out of the dumps and start remembering that it’s not all so bad. 
> 
> So, hang in there! 
> 
> Cheer up! 
> 
> We’re going to be okay.
> 
> We’ve got a rather comfy bed to go back to :3


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  CHANGELOG: MAJOR UPDATE: Chapter 17  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> I haven’t quite been myself lately, so thank you all for waiting so patiently! You guys really deserve the best –my best. As such, Chapter 17 has gotten a MAJOR UPDATE. (It’s better and shinier now! (ooh! ahh!)) Which means some of the events from last chapter have likely been altered. So, I HIGHLY recommend re-reading it before continuing on with the story. At the bare minimum, at least from the point that Blue came back to the cabin towards the end and onwards.
> 
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
> Mandatory Recap:  
> Ctrl+X  
> Ctrl+V  
> There is already a file named “Sans” at this location. Would you like to rename the file?  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

Red remained upside down, laying half-thrown over the side of the bed with all the sheets and pillows. Without his soul, despite his best efforts, he’d found his body too difficult to move into an upright position without the added adrenaline to spur the motion on. The void of his soul acted much like an anchor weighing him down.

Despite the racket he had surely caused, no one came rushing into the room to see what all the commotion was.

No one even _peeked in._ The absence of Boss’ clone made sense. He was most likely unconscious somewhere. But, Blue had seemed like the type who’d come running in to check on him. Or at least come see what destruction he’d caused to his bedroom with all that noise. So, his absence was particularly peculiar. 

Perhaps he was a heavy sleeper. Though, even that excuse seemed frail.

Regardless, no one came by for several hours, leaving him stuck in that same spot, bones stiffening, sprawled upside-down over the side of the car bed, for most of the night. Red didn’t sleep. Or _couldn’t._ Remembering the horrid shift in the creature’s expression when he’d figured out Red wasn’t _Sans_ was nightmare fuel enough for the evening. He didn’t need to add any more nightmares on top of those ghostly sunken eyes.

Plus, who in their right mind would feel comfortable enough to sleep knowing their soul was lying defenseless on the floor downstairs? He _had_ to get to it! But that simple task seemed impossible with the sheer weight of his own body at the moment. His predicament was starting to make him panic. Especially now that he knew strange monsters were sneaking into the house in the middle of the night _!_

The wait for morning was dreadful.

Yet nothing gripped him with more blind fear than when he felt a pressure finally close around his lost soul.

They had him.

It was so far away, he had _no idea_ who’d grabbed it. It had been in such a bad condition too –the soul was far too fragile to be handled at all! He was waiting, breath held, for that last violent stab of pain to finally end him –whether accidentally or with intention. Upside-down, his face locked up in terrified apprehension, awaiting the inevitable killing blow.

Suddenly, two feet appeared in front of his sockets.

His gaze slowly drifted up the boney legs to their towering owner. In the dim light, his brother –no, not quite his brother, but _Papyrus_ all the same –stood upright. His tall silhouette impressive even in this universe. Just the sight of him alone, healthy and unharmed, made Red feel more relaxed.

No, quite literally, he _felt_ more relaxed. The strain on his bones softened as if a weight had been lifted from them.

The intruder casually looked around the darkness of the room, hands stuffed into his pockets, twisting this way and that as he looked over all of the fallen books and toys. “…whoa,” He muttered under his breath, taking in the mess the room had become. “did a storm come through here?”

His gaze softened, eyes sinking into fondness, when he found Red upside-down in the sheets on the floor. “having trouble operating the bed?” He asked with a coy smile. The long legs crouched in front of him, “what’s wrong? never got your sleeping license?”

Red didn’t respond or move or even _blink_. His empty sockets staring forward vacantly. Still tangled in the sheets.

“how about i help?” Papyrus mercifully offered.

The hold on his soul disappeared.

The taller scooped up the unresponsive skeleton and placed him right-side up on the bed, pushing the mattress back into place with his knees before he set him down on the edge of it. He picked up one of the blankets from the floor, too. Then, shook it out before draping the crumpled blue sheet lightly over Red’s motionless shoulders.

Suddenly, that gripping hold struck his soul again, causing Red to flinch.

 “sorry to bother you so late at night, but you dropped something important on the floor downstairs,” he murmured, “i came to return it.”

Papyrus crouched directly in front of him, so that they were at about the same level, holding up the broken fragment of his missing soul. It truly was ruined beyond repair. Half a heart with frayed edges. A spider web of cracks layered over what did remain. Those shards barely clinging on. That dull crimson just _barely_ lit within its darkest depths.

Red lifted his head the slightest bit, hollow gaze locked on the soul.

Yet the motion didn’t go unnoticed by Papyrus. “yeah, i thought you’d want it back,” He smirked, gaze falling casually to Red’s chest. “ _nice shirt_. i think i got that for Sans as a gift–” His free hand hovered cautiously in front of the garment, “–may i?”

Red remained silent, but Papyrus took that as permission anyway, knowing the item he held was far too valuable to be left unreturned. “excuse me then,” He mumbled as he tugged up the front of Red’s shirt. He stuck his hand into his ribcage, causing Sans to wince jerkily.

The fragmented light floated back into place, simultaneously sending a wave of relief through all of Red’s bones to have the soul back where it belonged.

Papyrus retracted his hand quickly shortly after, smoothing ‘ _Mr. Cool’_ back down over the exposed bones. “sorry i, uh, never meant for it to be gone so long,” He explained while he fixed the shirt, offering Red a quirked smile. He scratched the back of his neck afterwards, orange irises shyly glancing off to the side. That tired strain still staining the underside of his sockets. “no, actually, i’m sorry for a lot of things. for acting weird –i know that wasn’t fair. i just wanted to help. and then, your face at the end–” He cut himself off, covering his eyes with a hand. Forgetting. “–what i meant to say was; i didn’t mean to scare you so badly. please forgive me.”

_Forgive_ him?

Sans had no idea why he was apologizing in the first place, let alone bumbling all over his words in the process! _He_ was the one who’d practically killed him. He was only _alive_ because of what Papyrus had done for him. If anything; he owed him an apology!

He was about to open his big, fat fangs to say as much. Yet he hesitated. He found he couldn’t bring himself to reply.

It was too _weird._ Boss never apologized for doing something. Boss was always confident that whatever he’d done had been the proper course of action –and if it wasn’t, he would have went along with it anyway. Boss would have stormed in here demanding an answer as to why Sans had given him such a hard time to begin with. He was behaving all _wrong_! Boss _wasn’t_ like this! This _wasn’t_ Boss.

It was just his clone.

No apology he could give would ever reach his little brother’s ears.

 “i hope you’re not too mad at me. i’m sure Sans will give me an earful later, too,” He chuckled dully, dropping his hand from his eyes. “maybe we started off on the wrong foot? can we,” He swallowed down the words nervously, almost unhappily, “ _start over,_ maybe? so, hi. my name’s Papyrus. the skeleton who probably tucked you into bed is my little brother, Sans.”

Red didn’t miss how his eyes dropped from his sockets to linger on the collar’s silver nametag.

“maybe you know that part already?” He asked with a pained smile. Then, he lowered his gaze further. Silence. “look. i don’t know what happened, but i don’t want you to be afraid.”

Although his orange eyes were begging a reply, Red refused to answer him.

The same pointed cheekbones. A mockingly similar large, yet thin frame. The uncannily strong jaw. All he saw was what his brother could have been; _alive._

And ignoring him wasn’t fair, was it? It might be true that this Papyrus only existed in the first place _because_ Boss was dead, but there was no point holding onto resentment towards Boss’ clone. He certainly didn’t deserve it. It was Sans’ own damn fault if he kept mixing the two up in his head. It was his _own damn fault_ his brother was dead.

That’s right: _dead._ Not alive. He didn’t want to fall into this lie. Papyrus _wasn’t_ alive.

“silent treatment, huh?” The taller laughed softly to himself. “that’s fair. i’ve done that myself before, too.” He paused, “listen, if you’re in there, i _don’t_ want to pry, but i _do_ want to know. even if you are–” He seemed to stop himself. “no matter what, _to me,_ you’re _Red_ –i mean, you _can_ _be_ Red if that’s what you want. the name isn’t important.”

Quite the contrary, the name seemed to be everything. He didn’t deserve to be called _Sans._ He didn’t deserve to have Papyrus –any Papyrus- protect him.

“whenever you want to talk; i’m all ears. i mean, i’ve got none, but i’ll listen to anything you have to say. i’m worried about that soul of yours. until we can fix it, i think it’s best if you take it easy. i want you to feel relaxed –not _afraid._ ”

Slowly, he left Red, rising back onto his feet.

“so,” he asked, drawing out the syllable, a worried crease between the brow, “what exactly happened here? did you not like the room? or was it an accident?” He teased, offering the motionless skeleton a small smile. “don’t worry. i won’t tell my bro you messed up his place.” He started placing the knocked over books and action figures back on the shelves where they belonged, “he loves organizing though, so i don’t think he’d mind too much anyway.”

He returned to the bedside after cleaning up the mess, crouching down in front of Red again. He dipped his head to look into the small skeleton’s vacant gaze. Again, his face softened in the fondest way. Cautiously slow, he lifted a hand towards the smaller’s rounded cheek.

With a jolt of realization; he stopped himself.

Dropping his hand back into his lap, he refrained from touching him. “haven’t slept? those look a bit older than just a day or two,” He mused, eyeing the prominent bags beneath his sockets. “you must be exhausted. you should try and get some sleep. you’ll feel better if you do.”

He was one to talk! Papyrus had sleepless bags beneath his eyes as well. Though nowhere near as terrible as Red’s near-permanent bruises.

“com’mon, buddy,” His brother’s clone insisted lethargically, “i think it’s time for bed.” He took the blanket from Red’s shoulders. Then, fixed a pillow behind him. Gently, he eased Red back onto the softness of the mattress by his shoulders, arranged his legs, and draped the blanket over him once more. He tucked in the sides once he was lying down. And it was all so very _weird_ to be put to bed by Boss. Red ended up upside-down on the mattress, head pointed towards the footboard, but Papyrus didn’t seem to care about the technicalities.

When he was done, he should have left. Instead, the large skeleton climbed onto the end of the car-shaped bed with him. The mattress dipped with his added weight. And _joining him_ could have been very Boss-like. Yet he stayed a cautious distance away. The taller sat with his back slumped against the wall, one long leg stretched out across the foot of the bed above Red’s head. He yawned, rolling his aching shoulders. “you don’t mind if i stay, do you?”

He didn’t get a response, but perhaps he hadn’t been expecting one.

“didn’t think so,” He grinned sleepily.

Red could hear the metallic _click-click-click_ of a lighter sound off somewhere behind him. Soon, the smell of tobacco wafted into the room accompanied by a gentle orange glow. Papyrus curled into his hoodie, slowly burning through the cigarette over the course of the next twenty minutes. By the time he’d finished it, the taller skeleton had fallen asleep at the end of the bed.

But Red never slept.

 

 

 

Dawn broke through the window a couple hours later. By then, Red had grown accustomed to the steady breaths of his sleeping companion. The smell of the cigarette still lingered faintly in the air, mostly cleared by the open window. Though, none of that bothered the small skeleton in the slightest. On the contrary, there was a part of him that was _happy_ Papyrus had stayed.

It allowed him to keep an eye on him through the night. He didn’t want to say he was _worried_ about him _,_ per se, but it was nice to see firsthand that he’d survived the night despite the injuries Red had inflicted on him.

…Maybe that was an understatement.

_Hell_. If he was being honest, his gaze had barely left the snoozing skeleton all night.

Red had rolled onto his back sometime in the early morning _just_ so he could keep an eye on him. Now, with the morning light spreading into the room, he could watch his sleeping face more clearly. The facial features were _unmistakably_ Boss’, but there was a certain element to it all that was much softer than his brother’s features. The cheekbones were pointed, but not quite as much. The teeth lacked any prominent fangs. Even the way his brow pinched, slightly troubled in his sleep, was less severe than Boss’ permanent grimace.

The door banged open loudly.

“GOOD MORNING!” A sing-song voice interrupted, as his blue doppelganger burst into the room.

Papyrus jumped slightly at the racket, blinking slowly against the light while rubbing the back of his sleeves against his face. He’d probably only gotten about two hours since he’d fallen asleep.

“PAPY! THERE YOU ARE!” The stocky skeleton, already dressed for the day, skipped to the end of the bedside near his brother. “I THOUGHT YOU’D LEFT ALREADY WHEN YOU WEREN’T IN YOUR ROOM.” He froze briefly, scrunching up his face, “ _WAIT A MINUTE_ –DID YOU SMOKE IN MY ROOM, PAPY?!”

Papyrus froze mid-eye-rub, sockets wide while hidden beneath a sleeve, suddenly wide awake as he realized what he’d done. “oh! right. sorry, bro,” he bumbled through an excuse, searching for an out, “i just thought maybe he _shouldn’t_ spend his first night _alone_!” He pointed towards the scapegoat bundled beneath the blankets.

So, this was suddenly _his fault_ , huh?

“ _OHHH_ ,” His doppelganger keened suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. For one split-second, Red thought _maybe_ his clone wouldn’t fall for the obvious lie. “HOW CONSIDERATE OF YOU. EXCELLENT THINKING, BRO! IT’S ONLY NATURAL WE SHOW OUR GUEST THE BEST HOSPITALITY!”

Papyrus chuckled softly at his brother’s naïve declaration, wrapping his arms around his knees. “that’s right. exactly what i was thinking.”

“I’M SO GLAD YOU’RE STILL HERE. NOW WE CAN ALL HAVE BREAKFAST TOGETHER!”

“ _hmm_ ,” Papyrus hummed contentedly, face still emotionlessly sleepy as he rested it across his tucked-in knees. Yawning, “sounds good.”

Blue walked closer to the middle of the bed, leaning over the mattress to peer into Red’s face. “ARE YOU UP, SLEEPY HEAD?” He asked eagerly. “WOULD YOU LIKE SOME FOOD NOW?”

Red _was_ up, but, fuck, it was the crack of dawn. What on earth was this skeleton even doing awake? Did he sleep at all? Or was he just eternally conscious?

Those crystal blue eyes cocked to the side after staring into his vacant sockets for some time. His expression entirely unreadable. The face uncomfortably close. “… _ARE_ YOU UP?” He asked less certainly at the motionless monster, unable to decipher the emptiness in his face.

That piqued Papyrus’ curiosity. He crawled a bit closer on the bed, staring down into the two void sockets as well. “i don’t think he slept,” the taller noted.

“HE DIDN’T?!” Blue gasped.

“doesn’t look like it,” Papyrus quipped lazily.

The smallest punched his brother in the arm with a blue-gloved fist. “YOU _DID_ KEEP HIM UP THEN, DIDN’T YOU?!” Complaining, “ _PAPY_ , HE’S _SICK._ YOU CAN’T DO THAT.”

“i know.” The taller rubbed his arm just as lazily, not really bothered by the light attack, “it wasn’t _me_. maybe he just got _tired_ of sleeping?”

Blue’s face quickly fell to sternly unimpressed. “PAPY, DID YOU JUST MAKE A PUN RIGHT NOW? I’M _SERIOUS_ HERE! _”_ He protested, crossing his arms haughtily and turning his face away.

“i’d tell you a joke about the bed, too, but i haven’t _made it_ yet.”

Letting the jest fly over his head, his alternate’s blue eyes suddenly snapped open, looking worriedly back down at the not-sleeping skeleton. “OH NO! _THE BED._ WHAT IF THE BED WASN’T SOFT ENOUGH FOR HIM. OR MAYBE IT SMELLED BAD?! I DIDN’T WASH THE SHEETS!”

“nah. the bed’s perfectly fine, there’s no reason to _lie_ on it _,_ ” Papyrus droned.

“PAPY! _FOCUS!”_

“you’re right, those jokes were _bed_ , anyway,” Papyrus continued.

His brother groaned.

Papyrus’ smirk quirked up to the side adoringly as he watched his troubled brother. “hey, really, don’t worry about it too much, bro. maybe we can get him to take a nap later. right now, i think breakfast sounds great. i doubt he’s eaten.”

“THAT’S RIGHT! BREAKFAST IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF ANY DAY. YOU MUST BE STARVING,” Blue fussed over the motionless skeleton, crawling halfway onto the bed himself to join them. “DON’T WORRY! SOON; YOU’LL HAVE THE BEST MEAL FROM SANS’ MAGNIFICENT KITCHEN: A BREAKFAST TACO!!!”

Red truly thought he’d misheard him. What the fuck was a breakfast taco? Wasn’t the term breakfast burrito?

Papyrus backed away as the blue Sans started fumbling with the sheets to free their hostage. “I KNOW YOU’LL JUST LOVE IT. IT’S A CLASSIC. I–” He tossed the blanket out to the side while pulling Red into a sitting position by his arm, “–WHAT’S THIS?” He questioned, turning his arm to get a better view of his palm. “IS THERE _GUNK_ ON YOUR HAND?!”

Oh yeah. From before.

“OH MY GOODNESS. HOW _EMBARASSING_! I SHOULD HAVE WASHED THE SHEETS BEFORE I GAVE YOU THE BED. THAT WAS SO CARELESS OF ME!”

Papyrus leaned in closer, taking the hand from his little brother.

It felt weird to be scrunched so closely between the two of them like this. The taller took a peek at the red staining his palm, too, but he didn’t freak out like his brother had. Rather, his face darkened for the briefest second, then he closed his big fist gently around the smaller hand as if hiding it from the other.

“hey, how ‘bout you go get the food started, Sans. i’ll help him clean up before breakfast.”

Blue crossed his arms, tossing a suspicious look his brother’s way. “YOU’RE NOT GOING TO GO BACK TO SLEEP ARE YOU?”

“i’m awake already. i swear,” The taller, disheveled monster, insisted with a sleepily dead-toned chuckle.

“OK THEN! YOU TWO GET READY. I’LL GO START THE FOOD,” he agreed, following through with Papyrus’ order. Wasn’t it strange he was allowed to question an order at all? He hopped off the bed then started out the door, but shortly after exiting, the chubby skeleton leaned back through the doorframe, “I BETTER SEE YOU DOWNSTAIRS AND NOT BACK UNDER THE SHEETS!”

Papyrus gave a lazily curt wave of agreement, dismissing him. He waited until the footsteps could be heard jogging down the stairs before he spoke. “did you hurt yourself?” The groggy voice rumbled near his skull as he scratched at the spots of dried substance on his palm.

Red’s hand trembled slightly in his grip. So faintly that it almost couldn’t be felt at all.

“come on, let’s go wash it off.” Papyrus climbed out of the bed with difficulty, wobbling the limp skeleton on the mattress in the process. Then, he spun back towards Red, a sly grin stretching across his face, “are you gonna get up by yourself or am i gonna carry you down?”

Again, Red didn’t make a move, so Papyrus lifted him out of the mattress effortlessly. He leaned back as he propped the smaller’s weight against him. Wrapping an arm below his butt, he allowed his legs to dangle. Instead of going towards the door, they took one step away from the bed, then fell into the void.

The sudden blackness was alarming.

Instantly Red’s hands flew up, gripping onto the other skeleton tightly. He knew he needed to hold onto him. He couldn’t lose him in the darkness a _second time_. What he didn’t realize was that their situation had been reversed. It was Papyrus who was the one holding onto him.

_Papyrus_ was the one taking the shortcut.

They appeared in a small, cramped, wooden washroom shortly after. Red’s face buried in the other’s chest, tiny fists still grasping desperately into his arms, grip trembling. Yet this time the tremble was severe enough to be _felt._

Papyrus held onto him for a moment in silence, just feeling the pathetic strength of the fists digging desperately into his sleeves. He studied the small form in his arms quietly. Apologetically, he murmured, “did i startle you?”

Red flinched.

Realizing he’d been found out, he let the tenseness of his grip fade away. Quickly, the little skeleton dropped his hands away from the hoodie, allowing his arms to swing limply at his sides as if he’d never had the strength to lift them in the first place.

So what if it was all an act? Physically, he might have been feeling _slightly_ better –but it certainly wasn’t by any significant margin. His grip was still horribly weak, he was completely exhausted, and he didn’t even have the energy to light up his sockets. He was only physically better enough to move a little bit.

_Mentally,_ he wasn’t prepared to do anything. He wanted to just rot.

“still not talking, huh? that’s okay,” Papyrus drawled. “though, i admit, it’s a relief to know you’re rattling around in there somewhere,” He teased, lightly tapping a finger to the side of Red’s skull. He hooked a foot around a stool from under the sink, dragging it out of hiding with one foot. “let’s get you washed up, alright?”

He lowered Red onto the stool carefully, balancing him upright on the tottering step as the taller stood behind him. He was pressed pretty close. Though, for safety or convenience, Red couldn’t tell. The larger reached around the smaller form and turned the water on at the faucet, testing if it was warm before he dragged Red’s hands under the water, too. It was cool to the touch. The larger hands scrubbed at the hardened red residue stuck to the bone, cleaning his palm with a mixture of soap and fresh water.

Red let his gaze drift to the mirror. A circular piece he’d owned in his own bathroom. In the reflection, Papyrus was curled around him, focused on the task at hand. He, himself, however looked dirty and small bunched between his arms. The purpleish bruises around his sockets were so dark they were nearly black and so thick they almost looked like a natural extension of his socket. His skull not only had its usual gruesome crack stretching down into his socket, but also several other smaller hairline fractures stretching from behind his head as well. No doubt from Undyne’s rough treatment. He bet the back looked even worse. One of his arms had quite obviously been used as some sort of chew toy, the texture gnawed and uneven compared to the other. He was sick of his own reflection.

No wonder they pitied him.

Avoiding his own unpleasant appearance, he let his gaze wander behind them. The walls beyond were laid out in the same narrow fashion his own were at home, so he was sure this was the cabin’s sole bathroom. However, this space was brighter. Better lit than his own. Though, it wasn’t hard to beat the electrical hazard; a single flashing bulb, that had lit their own. At least the tub looked the same. An ancient, free-standing, porcelain piece crammed against the far wall. Yet even here, in a space so small, the differences stood out. From the framed, hand-made drawing hung on the wall to the toothbrushes stored in a colorful mug on the sink’s edge, this place, too, was not his home.

When Papyrus finished washing away the stain, he turned off the faucet. The other continued to scratch lightly at the bone, turning over his hand curiously, but he never found a fresh crack. He backed up for a second, turning Red slightly as he looked him up and down, “where did you get injured?”

But no matter how hard he searched, he wasn’t going to find the accompanying injury, only a multitude of old scars. The blood wasn’t _his._

But how did Papyrus know that it _could be?_

Papyrus abandoned the investigation before it became too invasive. He spun Red around and picked him off the stool again like a child. Normally, he’d be upset for being treated like some helpless baby, but now Red hardly cared where he went or what he did. He didn’t care _what_ happened to him. _Whatever_ happened would pale in comparison to everything he’d already been through.

This time, Papyrus carried him out of the bathroom rather than risk startling his passenger a second time with another shortcut.

Red could hear the sound of pots, sizzling, and stirring as they passed the living room. The kitchen was abuzz with smoking pans and steamy teapots. An _unusual_ aroma plaguing the air. His clone was perched on a stool at the stove, working diligently on the pots’ questionable contents. Fully dressed in his hypothetical ‘armor’ instead of wearing the apron from yesterday –which was nowhere in sight.

Papyrus slinked into the kitchen silently behind his bustling brother, setting Red down on the first kitchen chair at the far end of the table. So that he was facing in towards the rest of the room. He had a good view of the cabinets and fridge. The taller tucked the chair in under the table for added support, preventing him from likely falling over if he suddenly felt unstable.

“smells good,” He yawned, as he passed his brother at the stove.

That was… debatable.

“DOESN’T IT?” Blue chirped happily.

Making his way to the fridge, he popped open the door and pulled out a slice of bread. Then, stuck it in the ancient-looking toaster nearby. He leaned back on the counter, peeking back at his brother’s handiwork. “new recipe?”

“YEAH! ALPHYS SAID ANY GOOD WARRIOR CAN HANDLE A SPICY MEAL. SO, I PUT IN TWICE AS MANY PEPPERS,” He announced proudly. “BUT THIS NUTRITION BOOK SAYS BLUEBERRIES ARE GOOD FOR YOUR HEALTH. SO I ALSO PUT IN PLENTY OF THOSE FOR OUR GUEST.”

Papyrus didn’t even bat an eye. “good thinking,” He droned. To which Red started to question if he really was even awake at all. The toaster popped. So, he turned away, collecting a jar of honey and dropping a generous glob of the translucent substance onto the toasted bread. With a knife, he matted the glob down flush to the surface and took a bite out of the meal with an audible _crunch._

“PAPY!” Blue cried, whirling on his brother. “DID YOU JUST MAKE TOAST? I’M MAKING BREAKFAST!”

“it’s part of a balanced breakfast,” The disheveled skeleton defended rather apathetically, mouth still one bite full of toast.

“THAT’S NOT A BALANCED BREAKFAST; IT’S THREE PARTS HONEY!” Blue scolded. Shooing him out of the kitchen. “GET OUT OF HERE. GO SIT DOWN AND WAIT PROPERLY,” He demanded, pointing towards the table with his spatula.

“alright,” Papyrus droned sleepily, dragging the jar of honey off the counter behind him as he made his way over to the table. Toast still held between his teeth, he plopped into the middle seat without a plate. Only setting that single jar of honey in front of him, along with a spoon.

Blue hopped off the stool, returning to the table a moment later with a mug and a steaming kettle. He filled the glass with tea, sliding the drink to his brother.

Red proceeded to watch him drop five spoonfuls of honey into the mixture. Effectively making it some sort of honey-tea hybrid instead of simply tea with honey.

“DO YOU WANT SOME TEA, TOO, UH–?” Blue hesitated, cerulean eyes roaming the foreign skeleton seated at the table. His crystal blue irises dipping towards the nametag, “UHM. SAN–”

Red resisted the immense urge to grab on and conceal the collar from prying eyes. But he knew it wouldn’t do him any good. The fact that everyone had already seen it wouldn’t change. The fact that anyone had read it at all left a shameful pit churning in his chest.

He should have stopped Boss before he’d ever given him the collar. He could have stopped him that night. He could have prevented _everything_ –

“it’s ‘Red’,” Papyrus corrected.

“HUH? THAT’S NOT WHAT THE NAMETAG SAYS.”

 “he said his name was ‘Red’,” The taller insisted, pointing casually back towards the motionless monster.

“WHEN?!”

“yesterday.”

“SERIOUSLY?” His vocal doppelganger pouted. “AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME? THIS WHOLE TIME I THOUGHT HE COULDN’T TALK!”

“i don’t think he can anymore,” The taller glanced lazily down at the silent skeleton next to him, “it was kind of a temporary thing?”

“THAT’S NOT FAIR. I DIDN’T KNOW YOU GOT TO TALK TO HIM,” Blue huffed with a childishly jealous bite. “WHAT ELSE DID HE SAY?”

“hm,” Papyrus counted his fingers. “he’s from far away. his name is Red. and he does _n o t_ like being touched.”

“OH NO.” Covering his perma-grin beneath his hands, the chef fretted worriedly, “I CARRIED HIM HOME YESTERDAY.”

“it’s okay. i carried him around this morning. i think he’s gonna have to put up with us unless he wants to _move on his own,”_ Papyrus stressed, throwing a telling smirk his way.

Of course, Red didn’t move for that sort a snide provocation.

“consider it a truce then,” The honeyed fiend shrugged.

“THAT’S IT? YOU DIDN’T ASK HIM FOR HIS HOME ADDRESS OR SOMETHING? OR ANY FAMILY MEMBERS WE COULD…?” Blue’s eyes dropped to the silver engraving once more.

“let’s say, it got a bit _complicated_ ,” Papyrus stated, his unwavering grin pressed apathetically into his tea. He took a casual swig once he’d spoken.

“RIGHT. A-ALRIGHT THEN. RED IT IS.” Blue agreed, recovering his perky edge. He stared at Red hard for a moment, resting a curious head on a thoughtful hand as he studied the hollow monster. “HMM~,” Tipping his head from side to side. “BUT WHY ‘RED’? WOULDN’T HE BE MORE OF A ‘FANG’ OR –OR AN ‘EDGAR’?”

“who knows?” Papyrus mused.

Thank fuck his doppelganger hadn’t named him.

_Fssshhhh._

There was a heated hiss from the side, followed shortly by an intense burning noise. Blue rushed back over to the stove, grabbing his spatula for battle. He started snuffing out the fires that were engulfing their breakfast. Yet Papyrus seemed unfazed as his brother handled the small grease fire that had erupted over the pan in the background.

“do you want some tea?” Papyrus asked him all too casually.

Red found he could hardly tear his attention away from the skeleton battling the stove behind him enough to answer.

“you know, i’ll get you some. you might like it.” The taller stood up, fetching two more mugs from the cupboard and brought them back to the table. He filled them both up, setting one in front of Red and the other by the empty seat.

Blue had won his battle with the inferno, swiftly moving all the ingredients off to the side counter out of the danger zone.

Papyrus spun back after placing the cups to further assist Red with his tea. “how ‘bout a scoop of honey? it makes everything better,” He offered, holding up the jar. Red didn’t answer so he pulled the smaller’s mug away anyway. “here, i won’t give you too much. just one scoop.” He freed a more reasonable spoonful from the jar and dumped it into his tea. Stirring the flavors together.

“OKAY! IT’S DONE. IT’S FINE. I SWEAR; I SAVED IT,” Blue announced in an unconvincing barrage of rapid succession. He carefully carried two plates back to the table, placing one in front of both Pap and Red. Then, he skipped to the counter again, retrieving his own meal.

A blueberry and peppered meat taco was probably one of the strangest meals he’d ever had set in front of him. Which was saying a lot, considering some of his clients had been into some weird shit.

“WELL, DIG IN!” Blue chirped happily, taking a big bite out of his own creation. He didn’t combust or cripple over in pain, so it must have been safe.

Papyrus was slower to take his first bite, wasting time sipping on his tea and finishing off his toast, but when he finally did, it was slow and cautious, tempered behind a trained mask of indifference. “thanks for the food, Sans,” He muttered through strategically paced bites.

“YOU’RE WELCOME!”

“hey, what happened with Undyne yesterday? you went after her, right?”

“OH THAT,” Blue frowned, placing his taco down for a moment. “I CAUGHT UP TO HER, BUT SHE SEEMED REALLY AGGRIVATED. THE MORE I FOLLOWED HER THE MORE UPSET SHE GOT. SO, I HAD TO GIVE UP AND COME BACK. BUT NOT BEFORE I DID THE MANLY THING AND MADE SURE SHE GOT HOME SAFELY. EVEN THOUGH, BY THEN, I HAD TO FOLLOW HER AT A DISTANCE UNDER THE CAREFUL COVER OF DARKNESS.”

“pfft,” Papyrus held down a smirk and took another bite of his breakfast taco. “well i’m sure she’d appreciate that, if she knew what you’d done for her.”

“WHAT ABOUT YOU, PAPY?”

“oh, i stayed here and tried to patch up Red with some healing magic–”

“–YOU REALIZE I FOUND YOU UNCONCIOUS ON THE FLOOR, RIGHT?”

“ah, _that_ ,” He mumbled, failing to elaborate.

Blue frowned at him, crystal clear eyes unwavering from his brother’s face. When Papyrus didn’t continue, he spoke up. “ARE YOU PUSHING YOURSELF TOO HARD AGAIN?”

“no, i’m fine,” The taller said evasively.

 “ _PAPY_?” The smaller skeleton spoke his name like a warning. His voice had fallen from the usual chipper tone into something more serious. Something more akin to concern. “YOU KNOW, I’M REALLY HAPPY WHEN YOU DON’T LOCK YOURSELF AWAY IN YOUR ROOM. I TRULY AM GLAD THAT YOU GET OUT, _BUT_ ,” He hesitated, then continued like he knew it was something he _had_ to say. “BUT YOU WERE GONE FOR A REALLY LONG TIME THIS TIME! IF YOU’RE GOING TO STAY OUT, YOU HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. MAKE SURE YOU AT LEAST COME BACK TO SLEEP.”

Red saw the pain crease between Papyrus’ brow. He rubbed the back of his neck, sparing a nervous glance Red’s way before looking back at his brother. As if uncomfortable the outsider was being privy to a conversation he shouldn’t be. “don’t worry about that, bro. i don’t think i’ll need to leave like that again.”

The news made Blue perk up immensely. Excitedly he asked, “DID YOU FIND WHAT YOU WERE LOOKING FOR THEN? SHOW ME!”

“not exactly,” Pap laughed humorlessly, “i think it’s probably long gone by now actually. i don’t think i’ll find it even if I do go looking for it now.” He smiled softly at his brother, genuinely apologetic, “sorry for leaving you alone for so long.”

Blue shook his head energetically. “NO! IT’S OKAY. I MEAN, _IS_ THAT OKAY? IT SEEMED LIKE SOMETHING REALLY IMPORTANT. IF IT’S BOTHERING YOU, I COULD HELP YOU FIND IT, TOO, PAPY.”

“don’t worry about it,” ‘ _Papy_ ’ dismissed lightheartedly, looking down at the motionless skeleton who hadn’t even touched his food yet. “we’ve got other things to worry about now. of course, i’ll help you take care of our new house-guest,” He grinned. “you did the right thing by helping him out. i’m proud of you.”

Blue beamed at the praise.

_Of course he did._ He was _Sans._

Though Red felt loathe to admit that any part of this overly energetic, obnoxiously loud skeleton could be him. He kept prancing around in this stupid costume making ridiculous claims, yet for all his boasting, the guy couldn’t even cook right when it came down to it. He kept talking back to Papyrus and only partially obeying orders. It was starting to make him seem incompetent.

_And worse_ , Papyrus seemed to adore him for it.

“I COULDN’T JUST LEAVE HIM THERE. YOU SHOULD’VE SEEN IT. I MEAN, HE FELL FROM _REALLY_ HIGH UP. I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW THE CEILING WENT THAT HIGH!”

“oh~?” Pap mused, taking a sip of his tea. Yet listening intently.

“YEAH. IT’S LIKE HE FELL ALL THE WAY FROM THE _SURFACE.”_

“that high?”

“YUP. THOUGH, IT MADE THIS REALLY LOUD CRACK WHEN HE FELL, TOO! IT WAS SUPER LOUD! IT SOUNDED LIKE IT WENT THROUGH THE WHOLE CAVERN,” Blue recalled, glancing across the table at his mirror. Vacant and unmoving. Suddenly somber, he asked a tad quieter, “DO YOU THINK HE’S BROKEN?”

Papyrus fumbled wordlessly for an answer, taken off-guard.

“HE HASN’T MOVED. OR SLEPT. OR EATEN.”

“maybe he doesn’t like tacos,” Papyrus suggested, still clinging onto a lighter tone.

Blue gasped as if he’d spoken pure blasphemy, scolding, “THERE IS NO ONE WHO CAN RESIST THE DELECTABLE ALLURE OF A FINELY CRAFTED TACO.”

“maybe he’s not hungry?”

“THAT WOULD BE…,” His clone glanced over at the motionless skeleton with concern, “…WORRISOME.”

Papyrus smiled gently at his brother. “are you worried about him?”

“OF COURSE I AM! AREN’T YOU?” Blue asked. “HE WAS SO INJURED. FOR HIM TO NOT SLEEP _OR_ EAT IS QUITE THE CAUSE FOR ALARM.”

“that’s… _true_. it’s not the best situation,” Papyrus reluctantly agreed, eyes distant. Maybe even a bit visibly uncomfortable at the idea of sleepless starvation.

Yet oblivious to his brother’s trouble, Blue barreled on, talking, this time, to Red. “ARE YOU NOT HUNGRY? DO YOU NOT LIKE THE FOOD?” He asked, those clear cerulean eyes boring holes into him as he leaned across the table. “IS THERE SOMETHING ELSE I CAN GET YOU INSTEAD?”

Red, of course, said nothing. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like the hustle and bustle of this morning routine. Seeing them getting along so perfectly made him sick. Seeing this made him feel dirty in all the worst ways in comparison. Boss and him _never_ got along like this. It was all too _different._ He wanted to block it out.

He felt that as long as he didn’t _participate,_ he could still pretend this wasn’t real.

And maybe then, there would be a chance that he could exchange this hallucination for the life of his snarky, overbearing little brother.

In the silence, his clone’s questioning blue eyes flicked over to his brother, exchanging a sidelong glance. But the other skeleton didn’t have any right answers to give him either. “OH! I KNOW!” His attention snapped back over to Red suddenly. “YOU NEED HELP EATING DON’T YOU?”

The chubby skeleton hopped off of his chair, dashing around the table to the hollow skeleton’s side. “HOW DID I NOT THINK OF THAT FIRST?” He reprimanded himself. “IF YOU’RE HAVING SO MUCH TROUBLE _MOVING_ , OF COURSE, YOU’D NEED SOME EXTRA ASSISTANCE. HERE, ALLOW ME,” He cut off a bite of the taco and transferred it onto a fork. Hovering the utensil right in front of Red’s clamped fangs.

“SAY, ‘AHHH’.”

Red still didn’t move. Or twitch. Or offer any proof that he was still alive at all.

Because he didn’t deserve to be.

“i don’t think that’s gonna work.” Papyrus crossed his arms in front of him on the table leaning forward heavily. A lazy grin tilting his fangs as he looked down into those empty sockets knowingly. “it was a good thought, though. good try.”

Blue made a stubborn pouting face as if refusing to give up on him so easily. “HELLOOO?” Blue abandoned the fork, now waving a hand in front of the vacant sockets. “ARE YOU IN THERE?”

It honestly felt like he was watching everything through a haze. This couldn’t be real.

Papyrus halted his hand, lowering it. “let’s just give him some time.”

Blue glanced questionably at his brother before those cerulean eyes flicked back to Red’s face with worry. “THE MAGNIFICENT SANS DOES NOT JUST WAIT AROUND AND DO NOTHING WHILE SOMEONE ELSE IS IN TROUBLE. ISN’T THERE SOMETHING WE CAN DO FOR HIM?”

“we’re probably a bit in over our heads this time,” Papyrus hummed while leaning into a hand. Pondering his thoughts aloud, “our best bet would be to get Undyne to help.”

“THEN!” Blue slammed the table in urgency. “I’LL GO GET HER RIGHT NOW.”

“hold on, Sans.” Papyrus caught him by the scarf before he escaped, dragging him back towards the table. “why don’t you keep an eye on Red today? i’ll go see if i can convince Undyne to help us.”

“DO YOU HAVE A PLAN?”

“does begging count?”

Blue pouted at him.

Papyrus chuckled, shrugging, “it couldn’t hurt to go and ask with years of friendship as leverage.”

“WE’RE FRIENDS, TOO! I SHOULD GO; IT’S EXTRA LEVERAGE!”

“you know how skiddish she can be when she’s in a mood. i think it’s better if only one of us goes. plus, if we both go, who’s going to look after Red? he might need your help too.”

“A _HH_. YOU’RE ALWAYS RIGHT,” Blue said, pressing a thoughtfully restrained fist to his blunt teeth. “IT WOULDN’T BE FAIR TO JUST LEAVE RED HERE ALONE.”

“so it’s settled,” Pap stood up from the table. “i’ll go see if we can get Undyne’s assistance. you stay here and look after Red. guard the house for me.”

“OH WAIT!” Blue gasped. “WHAT ABOUT WORK TODAY?! I HAVE TO PATROL.”

“what do you mean?” Papyrus continued all too naturally. Quick on his wit. “you’re _personally_ guarding a citizen in dire need of your help.” He winked. “i’ll let Alphys know what you’re up to.”

Blue’s eyes shone like stars in pure fascination as if swept away by his own grand imagination. Mouthing, “I AM, AREN’T I?”

“i’ll see ‘ya later.”

His alternate snapped out of his awestruck state abruptly. “WAIT, PAPY! WHAT ABOUT _YOUR_ WORK?”

“i’ll manage.” He stated with another lax shrug before disappearing in the blink of an eye. No doubt one of those shortcuts he’d used before.

“HMM~” Blue folded his arms grumpily, tapping his foot. “THAT MEANS HE’S NOT GOING AT ALL, DOESN’T IT?”

He sighed. “THAT’S ALRIGHT. I’LL TAKE CARE OF THINGS HERE,” He spun back down looking into the hollowed skeleton’s eyes, a grin stretching across his face. “LET’S SPEND THE DAY TOGETHER. JUST YOU AND ME. IS THERE ANYTHING YOU WANT TO DO?”

Surely, by now, he’d caught on that Red wasn’t responding to him?

Yet he kept talking anyway, pondering aloud. “HM. THIS MIGHT BE A GOOD CHANCE FOR ME TO CATCH UP ON SOME CHORES, TOO. YOU DON’T MIND WAITING, DO YOU? I NEED TO CLEAN THE TABLE.”

From his unmovable perch on the kitchen chair, Red watched his blue doppelganger methodically collect all the dirty dishes and wash them in the abnormally low sink. Then, set them each out to dry on a rack on the counter, humming busily the whole way. When he was done he came back to the table briefly to pick up Red’s meal. He wrapped it up and placed it in the refrigerator. Then proceeded to manually dry all the dishes in the rack with a towel and put them away. The sight of him busily working away was familiar because Sans had been in charge of all the cleaning back home, too.

At least something was the same.

Though he had never done them humming to tunes and swinging his butt.

Well, maybe if he were drunk? More than drunk. A little smashed then? Though, his alternate hadn’t seemed intoxicated.

When he was done, Blue struck a thoughtful pose in the kitchen, deciding his next task. “I KNOW! LET’S MOVE YOU OUT TO THE LIVING ROOM. IT’S MORE COMFORTABLE,” He insisted, pulling Red’s chair away from the table. He heaved him rather easily all the way into the living room with that surprising strength of his, where he dropped the motionless skeleton onto the couch.

He remained upright, butt sinking into the softness of the cushions, but he slouched forward. Shoulders heavy. Head hung.

“BETTER, RIGHT? IT’S MUCH MORE COMFORTABLE. HERE,” He spun around and turned on the television, sending a racket from the box echoing around the room. Red couldn’t see what was on since the other was blocking the way, but it was loud and obnoxious just like his double. Blue placed the remote beside him. “YOU RELAX HERE. I’M GOING TO COMPLETE SOME CHORES. JUST SAY THE WORD IF YOU REQUIRE ANY ASSISTANCE, OKAY?”

His alternate’s form stepped away from the couch, revealing the TV. Red had little interest in the flashing images dancing across the screen. Boss had a certain distaste for television, so he wasn’t even used to having it on when others were around. Instead, his vacant gaze followed the busy skeleton around the house whenever he passed by.

He wasted the day away by watching the blue one run around, continuing on a long list of chores Sans himself had usually done back in his universe. He picked up. He dusted. He came through with a vacuum. And ran up and down the stairs, collecting several large baskets of laundry next to the front door. He noted the kitchen apron from yesterday on the top of the stack. Then, his alternate disappeared for a while, but the busy sounds of shuffling and a running vacuum occasionally sounded down from upstairs.

When it started to get late in the day, Blue came back down with a skip in his step, dropping down on the couch next to him. “OH MAN,” He stretched his worn bones, “THIS HOUSE WAS _NOT_ GUEST-READY.” He flopped back to the cushions, exaggerating his exhaustion.

He only stayed down for about a second.

“OH MY GOODNESS!” He popped back up, “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR SKULL?”

His skull?

“OH NO,” Blue whined in concern, inching closer like he was about to touch it, then backing away as if realizing that was a very bad idea. If his face was anything to go off of, it was something horrendous. “THE BACK OF YOUR SKULL…”

The back?

Oh. Right. Captain Undyne had spiked him into the ground skull-first. He had been expecting it to leave a scar, likely a particularly nasty one, too. So hearing it now wasn’t really a surprise.

Yet Blue was hovering nearby like he was still tempted to touch it. He sucked in a nervous breath through his teeth as if just _witnessing_ it pained him. “I’M SO SORRY I DIDN’T NOTICE SOONER. WHAT IF I JUST– HOW ABOUT I–”

A golden glow lit his fingertips.

Before Red had truly processed what it was, the hand disappeared behind his skull. He felt a hand lightly tap at the back of his head, skimming along the outline of his bone. The touch seemed timid and harmless at first. Then, it hit him like a spear to the face.

_The pain._

Blinding in intensity. Hot waves searing out in sharp, punctuated pulses through his skull. Even though he could tell the hand itself was barely touching him, _everywhere it went_ was shot with searing pain.

No mask of indifference could withstand this.

Red shot forward away from his hand, but Blue practically tackled him into a headlock to keep him still. His clone’s other arm ending up around his neck. Red falling somewhere between his legs with his back flush to the other’s stomach. Blue rocked them back into place on the couch, trying to fight him still. “NO. NO. NO. IT’S OKAY,” He insisted. “IT’S JUST HEALING MAGIC.”

_Healing magic?_ Nothing about this felt rejuvenating. It felt like every fiber of his skull was being born raw again, stomped on, then set on fire. This was nothing like the warmth of the spell Papyrus had casted on his soul before.

“IT’S ONLY TEMPORARY. IT’LL FIX YOU.”

Red tried to thrash free of his doppelganger’s iron grip, but he was doing a pretty piss poor job of it. It was like a mouse trap had met a stuffed bear. Red being the one getting the ever-living shit squeezed out of him. He dug his fists into the arm locked around his neck, but the strength in them was flimsy at best. So, he slammed his eyes shut and tried to endure.

For whatever reason, his alternate took his growing stillness as a good sign. Ignoring the twitching flinches and clenched jaw while he recklessly carried on. “THAT’S IT. WE’LL BE DONE SOON,” He dismissed as if this pain were something adaptable. Maybe he _could_ grow used to it if it were tempered with sparse use, but this was a constant wave of agony.

The hand continued to skim along the back of his skull, tracing his injuries one by one.

Reaching his limit, he let the tenseness in his jaw go, releasing his clenched fangs. He panted momentarily against the arm holding him down. Tightening his fists into the other’s ulna.

“THIS ONE’S QUITE STUBBORN,” Blue pouted, running his hand along the thick, ancient crack that split down to Red’s socket. “HANG IN THERE, I’LL GET IT.” Red had dozens of scars and if Blue started getting emotional about every damn one they were going to be here all day!

He squirmed in discomfort again, huffing against the arm lock. At the next sharp pulse that shot through his skull; he couldn’t take it. He decided to clench his fangs down into the bone. Biting straight into the arm that held him down.

With a startled jerk, the spell stopped almost immediately.

But Red held his fangs down on the bone much longer. Digging his teeth into the other as he trembled through imaginary phantom pains from the already abandoned spell.

“OW. OW. OWW. OW! _OW_. OW… OWW! OW. OW. OW. _OWW–!”_ Blue kept repeating on some endless loop as if that alone would eventually force Red to let go of him.

Surprisingly, it actually worked.

The plea sounded so damn pathetic. Yet the whole time he was grinding his fangs down, Blue hadn’t beat his head in _or_ try to pry him off like any sensible person would. He hadn’t put up any struggle whatsoever actually, other than the verbal one, that Red eventually felt obligated to let him go.

Slowly, Red opened his fangs with a slight gasp, but his clone didn’t jerk his hand away. Didn’t rush to pull his arm out from the sharp fangs before they could inflict a second attack. Instead, he eased his arm out of his mouth carefully.

There were a few scrapes and several clear puncture wounds left in his otherwise spotless arm.

Red went back to being lifeless. It was much better when he was lifeless.

Blue untangled himself from him, cradling his injured arm near his chest with the other. Whining, “ _OOUUH_. I FORGOT. _OOUUH_. PAPY SAID YOU DIDN’T LIKE BEING TOUCHED.” While Red understood it was _his fault_ that he was whining in such a way, since he had been the one who physically injured him, he didn’t understand why he was being such a pussy about it. Clearly, this Sans didn’t have _one_ hit point like he did or he’d be dusting right about now. It wasn’t like he was dying. But for all his bitching he might as well have been. Seriously, Boss had made less noise when he’d gotten his head cut off.

The whole thing played out like some dramatic overreaction.

“ _OOUUH._ I CAN HANDLE THIS. _OOUUH._ I’M GONNA BE A ROYAL GUARD,” Blue rolled off the couch rather stiffly, still cradling his arm. He stood back up, _still_ hunched over his ‘severe’ injury. “ _OOUUH._ I’LL BE RIGHT BACK.”

With that he hobbled away into the kitchen. Only several shuffles later and he returned to the living room, setting a white medical box down on the floor. Red watched him from the spot where he’d fallen on the couch, lifeless arms dangling over the side, as his alternate unpacked the box until he found the gauze. Carefully, he wrapped the bandage around the injury, containing any stray dust and supporting the fractured arm.

Ever an unrelenting jabber box, Red wasn’t surprised that he talked as he worked. “MWEHEH. THAT IS SOME BITE YOU’VE GOT. IT’S REALLY VERY STRONG, ISN’T IT?” He kept winding, “THAT’S ALRIGHT. I CAN HANDLE IT. I’M QUITE STRONG, TOO!” Then, he stopped for a second, lowering his arm. _Quieting._ Staring ahead for a moment of silence with an almost dead look.

“IF YOU’RE LISTENING… WOULD YOU DO ME A FAVOR?” He smiled weakly, “COULD YOU _NOT_ BITE PAPY LIKE THAT? HE’S NOT LIKE OTHER MONSTERS. HE’S A BIT, UH, _SOFTER_ THAN MOST.”

_One hit point_.

Fucking hell! His own damn clone thought he was going to kill his brother. _Sans_ thought he might kill _Papyrus_. Worse, Red couldn’t even say his fears were unwarranted. He’d already done that _once._

Those crystal blue eyes flicked over to him. He smiled a bit wider, but the pain deepened in his eyes. “YOU HIT HIM YESTERDAY, DIDN’T YOU?”

Red’s soul dropped into his gut.

Cross-legged on the floor, the small skeleton began methodically winding the gauze around his arm again, “HE DIDN’T WANT TO TATTLE ON YOU THIS MORNING. SO, I KNOW IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. I KNOW YOU DIDN’T _KNOW_. BUT PLEASE BE A BIT MORE CAUTIOUS WITH HIM. I’M CERTAIN YOU CAN HANDLE MORE PAIN THAN THIS.”

He perked up, voice chipper once more. Grinning energetically at the lifeless skeleton lying on the couch, “I MEAN, JUST LOOK AT HOW MANY COOL BATTLE SCARS YOU HAVE! PAPY CAN’T HAVE _ANY_ , OKAY? _NOT ONE_. THOUGH, I BET HE’D LOOK SUPER COOL IN THEM, TOO! WHAT I’M TRYING TO SAY IS; DON’T HIT PAPY. NOT EVEN _ACCIDENTALLY_.”

He tied off the gauze, packing the supplies away. Then, he picked the white case up, approaching Red a bit more shyly. More cautiously. “OH! BUT DON’T MISUNDERSTAND; I’M NOT MAD AT YOU. OF COURSE NOT! IN FACT, I’M SURE YOU’RE HURTING, TOO.” Blue crouched next to the sofa beside him, placing the first aid kit on the floor by his knees. “I’M SURE THOSE SCARS WEREN’T _PLEASANT._ SO, I THINK WE SHOULD BE FRIENDS! LOOK!” Beaming, he held up his arm next to Red’s, where Boss had bandaged his forearm after he’d almost broke it off himself. Scratching and clawing down into the bone with his own hands until it snapped– “NOW WE MATCH!”

The sight of it almost made him wince.

“PRETTY COOL, RIGHT? IT JUST ADDS TO MY RUGGED CHARM,” Blue insisted, wiggling his brows. Then, he flipped open the medical supplies, shuffling around in the box for more. He pulled out a small bandage and tore off the wrapper. Sticky side out, he reached for Red’s skull.

Then, he pulled back suddenly. “DON’T BITE ME, OKAY? IT’S JUST A BAND-AID.” Confident Red wouldn’t bite, he continued, placing the band-aid on the side of Red’s skull. He smiled almost _too_ happily when Red didn’t attack him.

Taking this as consent, he shuffled around in the box for more. Over the next several minutes, Blue placed patches and band-aids all over his bones, covering any ‘severe’ injuries he could find. Though the vast majority of those were quite old and had long lost the need for medical aid. Red figured, perhaps he didn’t know how to tell the difference. Finally, he tackled the hardest task.

The bandages on Red’s arm.

They hadn’t been removed when he had been melting. Now, it was clear his bones had reformed in and around the bandages. Blue couldn’t remove them by normal means, so he had to fetch a pair of scissors to try and get them off. After cutting one free, his alternate unwound it, tugging at it once it was down to the final wind. The gauze was practically super-glued to the bone. It took a lot more effort to get them off. Often yanking and scraping roughly at the fabric with the scissors to free even an inch. It was… fairly excruciating.

He was suddenly glad that Papyrus had put in the extra effort to try and take his pants off yesterday. At the very least, having a blade scrape along his pelvic bone in a similar fashion would have been _less_ than ideal.

Eventually, though, Blue managed to remove the embedded gauze. He turned the arm over carefully inspecting the injury. A frown tugged his smile when he saw the finger-spaced gouges across the bone along with the crack that went straight through his arm.

“ _OUHH_ ,” He sighed, rather uncomfortably. As if disturbed by just the idea of it. “THAT LOOKS RATHER PAINFUL.” He hurried to grab some fresh gauze from the kit. Quickly wrapping the bandage around the injury. He had enough sense to make it _tight_ so that it offered the support the fractured bone needed. It wasn’t quite as tight as Boss’ patchwork, but Blue had used plenty of strength to make the splint work.

“ALL DONE,” He beamed at his patient once he was done, relieved the work was over. Idly, the little skeleton stretched is arms. Then, turned to shake out his stiff back. He paused halfway behind him, looking at the cabin window. It was dark. Nothing but the porchlight reflecting off the snow outside glittered in past the window pane. “IT’S DARK OUT ALREADY? OH DEAR. I’VE PROBABLY KEPT YOU UP WAY TOO LATE. YOU MUST BE EXHAUSTED SINCE YOU HAVEN’T SLEPT AT ALL.” He stood up, rolling is shoulders and creaking his spine. “LET’S GET YOU IN BED.”

He leaned over the sofa, wrapping his arms behind Red’s back. Gently, he pulled him upright and into his arms. Red’s feet dangled just an inch off the ground, trapped in his hug of a hold. Blue carried him up the stairs, taking each step carefully, as they made their way back to his room.

He set Red down on the ridiculous car-shaped bed, allowing him to droop in his usual lifeless way, as he went to fetch the sheet. He picked up the blanket, shaking it out. As he began to unwind it; he stopped.

There was a red stain on the fabric.

He blinked at it for a stiff moment, studying the blanket in surprise. Lifting it higher. Then, stuck his hand through a hole in the sheet where Red had dropped his bone attack onto the uninvited creature from the previous night.

“AUGH! THAT’S RIGHT!” He shouted in a sudden burst of shock. “I FORGOT TO WASH THE SHEETS!” He paused for a moment, pouting at the blanket. As if it were the inanimate object’s fault his memory was so poor. As if it were the blanket’s fault it had a hole put through it. Then he folded the sheet jadedly and set it back on the bed. Hands on hips, he glared at his mattress. “WELL, THIS WON’T DO.”

His eyes flicked over to the motionless skeleton sitting on the edge of his bed. Eyes vacant. Shoulders slumped. A bit of concern touched the blue clone’s expression. Yet he quickly recovered with his usual spunk. “FEAR NOT. THE MAGNIFICENT SANS HAS AN EXCELLENT IDEA! WE’LL JUST USE PAPY’S BED.”

He scooped Red off the bed and back into his arms, trying his darndest to peek around the bulk of the other skeleton to see the door. He heaved the lifeless marionette into the hall, kicking his door open with a boot. “HE WON’T MIND. HE SLEEPS ON THE SOFA HALF THE TIME ANYWAY. THOUGH, I CAN’T PROMISE HIS SHEETS WILL BE ANY CLEANER THAN MINE…”

They tottered down the hall into the second bedroom. Blue easily invited himself inside without any prior permission.

The room was smaller than the other with a single window –which was closed shut this time– along the back wall. This space had been Red’s bedroom back home. It was rather surprising how similar it looked. It was fairly sparse with a single dresser set along the far wall and a mattress lying directly on the floor without any sort of frame. Unlike his bed, however, this room had multiple mattresses stacked on top of each other. None in the disrepair his own ratty mattress had been back in his home. The space was freshly cleaned, yet that same scent of tobacco from the night before lingered on all of Papyrus’ possessions.

It was perhaps the only room in the house that felt even remotely familiar.

“SORRY HIS ROOM’S ALWAYS SUCH A MESS. AT LEAST IT’S BEEN PICKED UP. I PROMISE WE’LL GET YOU A GOOD BED BY TOMORROW.” His alternate said as he eased Red down onto the stack of mattresses. He gathered the large blanket from behind him. Then shook out the covers, holding it up in front of him.

The blanket was dull in color and likely quite old. If he squinted, he could make out several tough stains that had failed to be washed away over the years. Yet, overall, it was in a much better condition than anything Red had owned an unlike Blue’s covers; it had no holes. In fact, it looked quite warm.

Blue rolled his eyes, as if somewhat disgusted by the state it was in. “I GUESS THIS WILL HAVE TO DO. I REALLY DO APOLOGIZE. BUT SLEEP IS IMPORTANT AND WE CAN’T HAVE YOU SKIPPING IT.”

He draped the blanket around the small, motionless skeleton’s shoulders, tucking him in as he had the night before. Swaddling him up in some sort of ball. Once his clone had sufficiently bundled him up in a wad of softness, he rolled him back onto the mattress for bed. “OKAY, SLEEP WELL!”

His doppelganger bounded to the doorway and switched off the lights. Waving goodnight, he shut the door behind him. The clomp of his boots could be heard disappearing down the hallway until it faded entirely.

Red was left staring out into the familiar darkness of the bedroom. With the lights off; it was even _harder_ to tell that he wasn’t lying down in his own room. Except, of course, for the softness of this particular bed –which wasn’t innately a bad thing. Slowly he eased down, resting his cheek against the plush mattress.

It was really soft.

The blanket was really warm.

There was something about this bed he very specifically _liked_. Perhaps beyond just the coziness of it all. It felt like he was home. He was in his own room. On his own bed.

He couldn’t help but relax into that familiar softness. Allowing a certain tenseness to creep out of his bones that he hadn’t let go of since he’d gotten here. All that exhaustion. All that fatigue. Literal _weeks_ of sleepless nights were catching up to him. The last time he’d truly even _slept_ was passing out in the snow beneath Greater –if you could even call that ‘ _sleeping’_. Certainly not since he’d gotten the collar from his brother.

His chest gave a dull pain. The sort of empty ache he was growing far too accustomed to.

Beneath the massive wad of sheets rolled up in the center of the bed, he shifted just enough to lift a hand up to clutch onto the leather collar. He dipped his fingers into the custom inside, dragging it up to rub his cheek against the velvet lining.

He missed Boss. He had always been _happy_ when Boss wasn’t in the house—when he _wasn’t_ around –but now, somehow, knowing he’d _never_ see him again, he was desperate for a glance of his baby brother once more. He didn’t care if it came along with his often taxing anger.

He _missed_ Boss.

All this damn comradery between his and Boss’ double was hard to watch. It was like someone had taken their relationship and put a sickeningly sweet spin onto the whole thing. Then, polished out any of the bad things until nothing was left but giggles and doting glances. He didn’t understand how they could _act_ like that. Not just with each other; but dragging a _stranger_ into their house as if it were absolutely normal to do so. He could have killed them. He almost did! Going to such severe lengths to transfer him magic. Not putting up an ounce of struggle while being attacked.

How the fuck were they still alive? How had they _survived_?

The Underground was a terrible place. _No_ Underground could be _this_ welcoming. He didn’t believe it. Everything he’d seen so far was so outlandishly abnormal, it made him question the reasoning or sanity behind every generous act. What did they gain? Where was the benefit to this? Were they really this stupidly friendly?

Somehow, he had _serious_ doubts about that.

There had to be something dire he was _missing_ …

As if in answer, there was a sharp, abrupt banging on the door as if someone had kicked it. Or punched it. Or both.

“shit…” A voice cussed quietly between clenched teeth. A voice not on the _outside_ of the room, but _inside,_ even though the door hadn’t once opened since Blue had tucked him in. A heavy, tense pause passed, then the darkness shuffled as the large figure shifted away from the door. Long legs strode past the bed, pacing nervously.

“shit, shit, _shit_ …” The person repeated rapidly in a hushed tone. As if the mental breakdown happening in their brain was just barely slipping through in an audible form. They paused. Stilled right next to the bed, trying their best to calm themselves. It came out in a rather loud, frustrated sigh.

Their best attempt clearly not working very well.

The figure grabbed the ball of covers suddenly, ripping them back as the sigh ended in nothing short of a feral growl. The blanket fled from around Red as the sheet fluttered into the air between the intruder’s fingertips, revealing the small skeleton lying beneath them.

Papyrus froze instantly.

The shock of realizing he’d had an audience for his own private breakdown proved more effective at wiping the lingering frustration out of his mind than his own efforts could have ever been. His face went from near boiling rage to abject horror in less than a second.

Still, he didn’t move.

As if his brain had shut down and stopped functioning the second he’d seen Red. The blanket had finished its fluttery dance and was now just dangling limply in his grasp as he tried to reboot. Slowly, his face shifted from horrified to a lesser, jaw-dropping shock, then to a muted concern. His eyes flicked once across the tiny intruder curled up on his bed. Swallowing dryly, he vacantly asked, “Sans put you here…?”

Even if Red was actively participating in moving and speaking, he would have been too terrified to do either. He dared not move a single bone.

At the silence, Papyrus’ eyes darted off to the side. Guiltily, he began fluffing out the sheet he’d torn away from him and his brother’s dear ‘guest’. After straightening it out, he draped it over Red once more, crouching next to the mattresses as he did so. “sorry,” He muttered, “i didn’t realize this was where you were resting…”

With that feeble apology, a halfhearted smile tilted his teeth. He dutifully tucked the covers under the small form’s shoulders in a methodical manner. Once he was done, he sunk to the floor, resting his head on his arm along the edge of the mattress. Just a short distance from Red’s skull. Though, Red was concealing half of his face beneath the thick leather collar still pulled close to his fangs.

Papyrus’ orange irises flicked between his two voided sockets, “did i wake you up or have you not slept again?”

Once more, he reached out for the smaller skeleton’s face with his free hand.

But when his eyes fell to the collar Red was covering himself with; he stopped himself halfway.

Carefully, as if not to startle Red, he withdrew the arm, sliding it under his other which was resting on the side of the bed. Gently, he eased his head down into his arms, as if not to disturb the mattress, getting comfortable until he was laid out beside Red on the bed, but on the floor and not the mattress.

His lazily lidded eyes shifted between Red’s two sockets slowly, tracing all the features on his face. Red didn’t say a word. Didn’t move, still clutching the leather halfway over his face as if that might shield him from Papyrus’ gaze.

Eventually, Papyrus’ weary eyes fell solemnly down to his arms. Guiltily nuzzling his head into the fabric of his hoodie.

“sometimes…” He murmured scant above a whisper, “i wonder why i bother…” Eyes downcast, his brow creased together. Not in the stern way Boss’ would, but in the troubled manner they had the night before. “you can put in so much effort and you _still_ fail. then, you’re back where you started; with _nothing_ … and everything you wanted seems so far out of reach.”

That crease doubled as he shut his eyes, burying his face between his sleeves. “hey, tell me,” His voice broke beneath a certain amount of pain, “should i bother? at what point do i stop trying…?”

His shoulders had constricted, tensing as he spoke. Each hand dug desperately into the other arm. Trembling. His breath was quickly pitching into nothing more than short, harsh gasps barely able to hold air. As if the mere thought of receiving a finite answer to that question was terrifying. As if the mere thought of refusing to try or refusing to let go might ruin him completely.

Seeing the form of his brother, always so strong and steadfast, now trembling in such a pitiful manner tugged at Red’s heartstrings in a ways he couldn’t describe. It _hurt_ to think he might be suffering through something that would reduce him to this. It _ached_ to see him so broken.

He couldn’t quietly watch Papyrus suffer.

The collar jingled as Red pulled it a bit closer, muffling his gruff voice into the velvet, “– _Don’t_.”

Papyrus’ breath hitched, clearly not expecting a response to his rhetorical question. Slowly, he let that answer sink in. Gradually, the tenseness eased out his shoulders, though he didn’t stop gripping his own arms. Next, he started breathing again. His breath was still erratic, but it was coming down naturally. He was calming down.

Finally halfway composed enough to think straight. He realized the paradox, letting out a small broken laugh, “nye _heh_. don’t bother…? or don’t stop _trying_?”

“Either?” Red nuzzled the collar a bit closer to his fangs. His voice was weak and hoarse as he spoke, “W-whichever one ‘ya want more, I guess? Which one did ‘ya think I meant?”

Papyrus let that answer – _his answer_ \- sink in. Head still down, still a bit shaken, Papyrus took a deep, steadying breath. Then, another. And another. Until his breathing was no longer forced or short. Until he was no longer clawing desperately into his own arms. Until he was relaxed.

Yet even after the most obvious issues subsided, he didn’t lift his head. Red wondered if perhaps he didn’t want to show anyone his current expression. After all, although it was less severe and he’d calmed down significantly, he could still see that troubled, pinched brow peeking just above his folded arms. Well, that was fine. He hadn’t been trying to fix his expression. Hadn’t dreamed he could fix a problem he had zero context for.

He had only wanted him to relax.

Eventually, those deep, steadying breaths turned into a slow, even snooze. Papyrus twitched occasionally, nuzzling his head against his sleeves groggily until he’d turned his sleeping face to the side across his arms. When he stayed there for a good hour, Red was sure he was finally fast asleep.

Yet that slight knit was still there between his brow.

Still troubled.

Red peeked at the problem over his collar, vacant gaze unwavering. Quietly, he uncurled his fingers from the safety of his leather collar and crept his hand across the mattress, tapping a single finger to the other’s brow. Rubbing the crease gently below his finger to see if he couldn’t simply smooth it out.

He instantly regretted it. The bone was quite solid. A little cool to the touch in the open air. And very, _very_ real.

Oh, no.

Why did he do that?

He’d said wasn’t going to get involved.

 

 

 

The next morning, at the break of dawn to be exact, the door banged open with all his doppelganger’s usual gusto. That little crease that had marred Papyrus’ expression all night long twitched slightly against the aberrant noise. Somehow; it irked Red to no end to think that the room got several decibels louder whenever his alternate was involved.

And yet, as Blue opened the door and discovered his sleeping brother; he stifled a giggle. Attempting to creep _silently_ into the room without causing alarm only _after_ that noisy of an entrance. When he’d lined himself up behind Papyrus, he pounced. Grappling his brother into a big hug from behind.

“GOOD MORNING, PAPY!” He boomed right into his ear.

Papyrus groaned, clearly feeling the discomfort from the added weight and noise, yet still fighting to stay asleep. He rubbed his skull sluggishly into his arms.

“IT’S TIME TO WAKE UP,” Blue sang loudly, nuzzling his head over the taller’s wide shoulder.

Groggily, Papyrus peeled open a single eye, blinking against the light. He glanced to the side towards the source of the noise. Where the rounded skeletal face leaning over his shoulder grinned wider once he saw him. Papyrus shut his eye lazily, a wide grin stretching across his own teeth. He mumbled, “five more minutes.”

“NOPE!” The loud one chirped.

“ten more minutes.”

“IT’S MORNING RIGHT NOW,” His brother chimed.

“twenty more minutes,” Papyrus grumbled, still grinning.

“WHY IS THE NUMBER GOING UP?” Blue pouted at him, squeezing him harder around the middle. A gesture which likely had a significant amount of force behind it considering his alternate’s other feats of strength.

“alright, alright,” The lazy drawl hummed, a tired laugh mixed into the tone. “i’m up. i’m getting up,” he promised with his eyes closed.

“A WISE CHOICE,” Blue huffed proudly.

Papyrus let out a massive yawn then slipped his hands off the mattress, wrapping them behind him. He lethargically hauled his brother onto his back as he stood up. Wobbling a little when he reached his full height, almost exaggeratedly hopping towards one side like he would fall. Blue squealed, but with too much happiness in the scream to actually be scared. He wrapped his little arms around Papyrus’ neck instead, wrapping his legs securely around his chest as he held on for dear life.

The towering skeleton hopped once, fixing him along his back before he yawned sleepily again. “nope. too tired,” he muttered, falling forward.

“MWEH HEH HEH HEH!” His brother couldn’t help but laugh as Papyrus bent over, effectively flipping his little passenger upside-down. “PAPY, NO!” He screamed, yet managed to hold himself perfectly in place for the duration of it.

Papyrus tipped back up in the same exaggerated fashion much to the delight of his passenger. He rolled out his stiff shoulders, spinning to stretch out his back as those two blue boots kicked eagerly at his sides the whole time. After he finished stretching, he looked back at his brother, “ok. where to?”

Blue pulled himself higher, peeking over Papyrus’ shoulder at the stacked mattresses. “IS RED UP YET?”

“well, let’s check.” It only took him about two steps to get back to the bed with that long gait of his. Then, Red watched him crouch down next to mattress as Blue slipped off his back. They crowded the bedside together. Both brother’s staring down into his vacant sockets.

“looks like he hasn’t slept again. at least, i doubt it,” Papyrus leaned his head apathetically onto an arm lazily propped over his knee.

“SERIOUSLY?” Blue whined in disappointment. “THAT’S TWO NIGHTS IN A ROW.”

No. It had been _much_ longer than that. Red was well beyond pure exhaustion and into that grey area where he just kept telling himself he was fine even as his vision blurred and spotted.

“well, we can’t force him to sleep…”

Blue sighed heavily.

Papyrus offered him a small smile, “how about we try food again. maybe he’ll eat today? think you can get breakfast ready?”

“ABSOLUTELY!” The little skeleton perked up exponentially.

With a smirk, Papyrus affectionately rubbed the top his skull, “great! go get it ready. we’ll be down in a minute.”

“I’M ON IT!” He pranced out the door quickly, his blue scarf bobbing with each step as he headed off down the stairs.

Papyrus stood up to follow him, closing the door behind the energetic skeleton. Once he’d shut the door, he came back to the side of the bed, kneeling. “ _still_ didn’t sleep, huh? what could be the harm?” He asked gently along with a weary smirk, “nothing good’s going to come of you _not_ sleeping.”

He only said that because he didn’t know what kind of nightmares Red had.

When he didn’t get an answer, Papyrus moved on. “well, since i know you’re in there,” He pulled the blanket all the way over Red’s head, covering him entirely, “wait here for a moment would you?”

Red’s soul raced at the sudden loss of vision, but a few shuffles later and several knocks that sounded suspiciously like dresser drawers; Red was certain Papyrus was changing. Right in front of him no less. At least the sheet was thick. A few minutes later, the taller pulled the sheet back, grinning.

He looked like he was wearing the same thing as before.

“thanks for waiting,” He smiled, “hungry for breakfast yet?” Without waiting for an answer, he unwound the sheets, scooping the motionless skeleton up into his arms. Luckily, Papyrus didn’t dip or tease him like he had Blue. Red didn’t think he’d be able to hold on if he was suddenly flipped upside-down. Plus, his hold was a bit more possessive, prompting Red to sit across one hip as he held his butt and back.

The second they left the door, the sounds of the kitchen were already bumbling up from across the banister. Red tried not to think about how his pelvis ground against Papyrus’ hip as they made their way down the stairs. The contact was simply unavoidable. Yet another unusual smell hitting his face as they entered the kitchen where Papyrus set him down in the same seat as yesterday, tucking the chair in beneath the table like before.

“what’s for breakfast?” He asked, passing his brother as he made his way towards the fridge.

“TACOS!”

Again?

“sounds good, bro,” Papyrus mumbled, sticking his head in the fridge. He pulled out a single piece of bread as he had the day before, making his way to the counter.

This time Blue caught him, blocking his path with arms wide.

“I SAID NO TOAST WHEN I’M ALREADY MAKING BREAKFAST!” He complained, lunging for the stray piece of bread.

Papyrus easily held it out of his reach. Apathetically, watching his brother try to jump for it for several moments. He was far too tall for the little guy. He tugged Blue in close to his chest, burying his head and complaints into the fabric of his hoodie. Then, he simply reached around the smaller skeleton and dropped the toast into the toaster.

“PAPY!” Blue scolded, freeing himself from the hoodie. “THAT’S SO RUDE!”

The taller shrugged, “but every morning’s _breader_ with toast.”

Blue rolled his eyes exaggeratedly as he turned back to the stove, more attentive to not leave it unattended like he had yesterday. Pouting, “YOU DON’T NEED ANYTHING OTHER THAN MY COMPLETELY NUTRITIOUS, WELL-ROUNDED TACO.”

Papyrus beamed at him as he leaned against the counter, despite the back-talk. “ _obviously_ , your food is the best part of the breakfast. i just need something to put my honey on.”

“I _GUESS_ THAT’S ACCEPTABLE,” His brother begrudgingly allowed. “I CAN’T LET YOU MESS UP MY CAREFULLY PREPARED FLAVORS BY DUMPING HONEY ON EVERYTHING!”

Papyrus collected his toast once it was done. After lathering it with an absurd amount of honey, he made his way back to the table with his meal, the jar, and a spoon. He took the same middle seat as yesterday, leaning back lazily in his chair. He freed an extra scoop of honey from the jar, eating that instead of his toast.

He gave a lazy side-long glance at Red, spoon still in mouth dazedly, before realizing something. “oh almost forgot,” The taller muttered, calling out, “Sans, i’ll get the cups.” He got back up fetching three mugs from the cupboards and spaced them out accordingly among the seats, setting the last empty glass in front of Red.

He slipped back into his chair. With an elbow on the table, he rested his head against his hand, staring intently at the motionless skeleton like he was expecting some sort of reaction. The gaze lingered unnaturally long as the sound of dishes and pots clinked off to the side. Red noticed, with slight embarrassment, that his eyes were tracing his mouth. As if transfixed, slowly, he reached out with his free hand, brushing below Red’s chin. The thumb swiped across his mandible just below the bottom row of fangs.

“not going to say anything?” He asked just above a whisper, orange irises mystifyingly distant.

The touch was brief and faint. Held no longer than a second or two. Yet perhaps _because_ it was so fleeting; it left a severe tingle spreading out across his jaw.

Red was reminded again of just how solid the bone beneath his finger had been the previous night. How everything he was seeing was entirely _real_. And how all those sidelong glances Papyrus had thrown his way weren’t some delirious figment of his imagination.

He tried not to stiffen.

“FOOD’S DONE!” Blue announced, interrupting the moment as he rushed two plates over to the table. He set another taco in front of him, though this one looked more normal than yesterday’s bizarre concoction. Except for the fact that the meat was slightly _purplish_ in color which left Red baffled as to what he could’ve possibly put into it.

After placing his own plate down, Blue came back with the steaming kettle, filling up each glass with tea. Red watched Papyrus dump yet another absurd amount of honey into his drink, then he stole Red’s glass to mix in an extra scoop of honey as well. Blue hopped into his seat at the other end of the table and began eating.

“thanks for the food, bro,” Papyrus mentioned as he turned back towards his own meal.

“DON’T MENTION IT!” The chipper skeleton chimed happily between mouthfuls of taco. They ate in a companionable silence for a while as everyone but Red stuffed their mouths full of fresh food. Once the pace of the meal had slowed down somewhat, Blue spoke up first.

“SORRY I BORROWED YOUR BED, BY THE WAY,” Big blue eyes glancing up at his brother as he finished off the last of his taco.

“hm? don’t worry about it,” Papyrus hummed.

“BUT I FEEL BAD,” Blue said as he began to collect the empty dishes. “I DIDN’T THINK YOU WERE GOING TO SLEEP ON THE FLOOR. YOU COULD’VE SLEPT ON THE SOFA. I THOUGHT YOU WOULD.”

Papyrus gave a short lackadaisical shrug, “guess i got too comfortable before i could move.”

If by ‘comfortable’ he meant swallowing down some kind of panic attack.

“BUT THE FLOOR’S NOT THAT COMFORTABLE,” Blue noted, gathering Papyrus’ empty plate to stack on top of his own.

“yet i could _hard_ ly resist it,” Papyrus responded, stretching out his spine over the back of the chair. The position he had slept in probably _wasn’t_ very good for tired bones.

Blue ignored the pun. Getting up from his chair, he walked around the table, “THAT’S BAD FOR YOUR BACK, YOU KNOW.” Balancing the plates in one hand, he stopped next to them. “NOT HUNGRY AGAIN, RED? THAT’S NOT GOOD FOR _YOU,_ EITHER.” His alternate said, spinning his scolding nature around on him. He reached across the table between them towards Red’s unfinished meal. Red didn’t miss how Papyrus’ orange eyes followed the arm.

 “what’s that?” He asked casually with a barely raised interest. Motioning to the fresh bandage wound around Blue’s arm. Though, Red could tell the nonchalance in his tone was completely feigned just by the way his eyes never left it. He was very, _very_ interested in what the bandage was.

Oh, fuck.

An insurmountable amount of dread crept up on him.

“OH. UHM. MWEHEHEH~” Blue laughed nervously, scratching the back of his skull. Timidly he pointed towards Red, not in an accusatory way, but more in way of explanation. He might as well have been lining him up for the firing squad. “I FORGOT ABOUT THAT WHOLE ‘ _HE DOESN’T LIKE TO BE TOUCHED_ ,’ THING YOU SAID YESTERDAY.”

“ _Red_ did that?” The taller asked brows raised, looking down at the motionless skeleton. That critical glance cast his way.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, _fuck_. He felt the marrow drain out of his bones. He was in big trouble. Boss was gonna _kill_ him for laying a finger on the brother he so clearly doted on! His face hadn’t so much as shifted, but Red could practically _feel_ the scorn from here.

Rising silently, but angrily, into the atmosphere.

“YEAH. HE BIT ME…” Blue admitted, chuckling nervously. Big eyes cast to the side as a finger toyed along his cheek, looking embarrassed to try and explain the rest of the details.

. . .

Papyrus bopped him on the head.

The strike was sudden, yet not overly imposing. The sort of blow that he clenched his fangs much harder for than he actually needed to. It was just enough to push his head down into his shoulders. It left him tense, but not for any pain inflicted. In fact, he’d been expecting a lot worse. It didn’t leave an ounce of sting behind. He peeked a weary socket open. Gaze drifting up the long arm to its apathetic owner.

“don’t bite people,” He scolded with finality, but there was no malice to the tone whatsoever. It sounded more like he was exhausted to even have to define the rule. Still, invoking Boss’ ire in any way sent his nerves aflutter.

“ _PAPY_! HOW COULD YOU–?” Blue blurted out, grabbing his arm and pulling it back, but far too late to actually stop anything. “HE’S _SICK,”_ He accused incredulously.

“so? that doesn’t mean he can bite people.”

Red’s brain was still scrambling to figure out what had just happened. His soul was pounding so hard he thought the drumming would burst out of his chest. Was he still in trouble? _Where_ was the second half of the punishment? Or the first half for that matter?

Blue blinked at his brother, stumped. “S-STILL HE’S _SICK_. YOU DIDN’T LET ME _FINISH_!” Though, he hadn’t even seemed like he was going to _finish_ that thought before. Yet Blue pouted up at him, “IT WAS MY FAULT. I PROBABLY STARTLED HIM.”

Red’s soul may have been frantic with bewilderment and fear, but he clearly understood the _sting_ that shot through him when Papyrus’ gaze drifted away from him dismissively and over to his little brother. He held out a hand, “let me see.”

He was _definitely_ mad at him.

His alternate’s cerulean eyes flicked from the hand to Papyrus’ face, but he didn’t hesitate in the slightest putting his injured forearm in the other’s large hand. Papyrus unwound the gauze carefully, unwrapping the arm. Blue winced slightly as he turned the bone over, inspecting the aftermath of the injury.

Papyrus sighed heavily when he saw the puncture wounds. Red hadn’t just bit him a _little bit._ He’d clamped down as hard as he could fucking manage to in his current state which was plenty enough for fangs as sharp as his to do a significant amount of damage. While it obviously wasn’t life-threatening, it also wasn’t the _oopsie!_ kind of wound Blue was trying to pass it off as.

“hold still,” Papyrus ordered as his palm began to glow with light.

Blue’s face cringed as he experienced the no doubt unpleasant sensation Red had been subjected to yesterday. However, he took it a lot better than Red had. As ordered, he stood perfectly still, albiet with a slight uncomfortable tremble. Within a few short moments, the holes and cracks had healed, leaving his hand spotless once more.

“THANKS, PAPY!” His alternate beamed, testing his now perfect arm with a few quick bends. “YOU REALLY ARE THE BEST AT MAGIC KIND OF STUFF!”

“you’re welcome,” Papyrus grinned halfheartedly back. Yet he seemed a bit tired. That damn siphon. It had only been a day since he’d used it on Red. The taller plopped his hand atop the shorter’s skull, rubbing affectionately into the bone. “don’t get yourself hurt recklessly, okay?”

“ _OKAY,_ ” Blue chimed out as if he’d said it a million times, allowing Papyrus to finish rubbing his skull before he gathered the plates back up and took them to the sink. Papyrus turned to watch him go. And the fact that he wasn’t so much as _glancing_ in Red’s direction anymore didn’t go unnoticed.

It left a certain pit of hope sinking fast in his chest.

 “SO, WHAT DID UNDYNE SAY YESTERDAY?” Blue asked as he busily worked on the dishes, leaning over the abnormally low sink.

“oh, _that_ ,” Papyrus said, leaning lazily over the back of his chair. Pointed deliberately away from Red. “i went to her house several times to ring the doorbell, but she didn’t answer,” He pulled out his phone, flipping through the pages on the screen. “i called her a couple of times, too, but it doesn’t look like she’s answered those either.” He slipped the phone casually back into his hoodie pocket.

“ –HEY, WOULD YOU MIND MOVING RED OUT TO THE LIVING ROOM FOR ME?” Blue interjected quickly, glancing over his shoulder, while the faucet ran. His hands were busy, “I LET HIM WATCH TV YESTERDAY.”

“sure thing,” Papyrus answered, lazily getting up from his seat. He was probably only paying any attention to him _at all_ because it was his dear brother’s request. As he pulled Red’s chair around, he was paying more attention to the conversation than the skeleton he was assisting.  “i also tried to take a shortcut inside the lab, too, but she had a rather _dedicated_ guard watching out for her.”

“ALPHYS?!” Blue asked, spinning around as he dried off his hands. “WELL, WELL, WELL. LOOKS LIKE IT’S _MY_ TERRITORY NOW,” He announced, puffing out his chest proudly. “DON’T WORRY. I CAN HANDLE IT FROM HERE. I’LL GO TALK TO HER!” He hopped off his stool eagerly, quickly making his way out of the kitchen. “YOU WATCH RED FOR ME TODAY. OKAY, PAPY?”

Papyrus was midway picking Red out of the chair, when the words finally sunk in. He froze, leaving Red’s arms awkwardly lifted up halfway. He whipped around suddenly, catching his brother just past the kitchen archway. His sockets had flown wide. “wouldn’t you rather watch Red?” The words tumbled out of his mouth so quickly. “civil duty and all that! you _are_ the one who found him. i could still try a couple of things at Undyne’s first.”

So, he was trying to pass him off? He didn’t want to be around him _that badly_?

Blue turned around, sternly adding as he wagged a scolding finger, “YOU SAID YOU’D HELP TAKE CARE OF RED. IT’S YOUR TURN TODAY.”

From here, Red could see the strong jawline clench. His eyes darted nervously down to Red, then quickly back to Blue. His brother had turned his back and was walking towards the door. Papyrus quickly hauled Red out of the chair, leaning back as he tried to adjust the weight against him without paying proper attention. The motionless skeleton was awkwardly slipping from his grip. “wait! you don’t have to go right _now_.”

His alternate spun around as he tugged the door open. Some of the winter air billowed into the room behind him. The snow’s glare blinding in comparison to the cabin’s cozy glow. “I’M GOING TO RUN PATROL FIRST.” He waved in an exaggerated fashion, “SEE ‘YA LATER, PAPY!”

The door thudded closed behind him.

It took Papyrus a second to reboot. He sprung back to life with a small, sharp gasp between his teeth. He pulled the slipping skeleton up urgently into his grasp, staggering back a step. Straight into a shortcut.

The blackness fell around them.

Red hadn’t been expecting it _at all._ The sudden surge of the shortcut as the void flew passed them startled him. The creeping blackness. The lingering fear. Like before, Red _immediately_ tensed. Gripping on desperately to Papyrus’ upper sleeves as if both their lives depended on it.

They exited the shortcut, but before he could even begin to get his bearings, Papyrus had dropped him onto the couch. It seemed pretty pointless to use a shortcut to go such a short distance –even for someone as lazy as Red. He was still trying to process the abrupt shift. They were in the living room. Papyrus was crouching down in front of the sofa next to him _only_ because Red was still clinging onto his arms and he couldn’t get up.

He was glancing over his shoulder at nothing, eyes cast to the side.

_Still_ not looking at Red even as he pried his small fingers forcibly off his hoodie. Shoving the hands back at the owner like he wanted nothing more to do with them. “hey, uh,” Papyrus muttered out curtly as he stood back up, still not looking down at him. “i _really_ have to go help my brother with patrol.” Even his dismissal sounded rushed and forced. “wait here, alright?” He asked even as he turned into a shortcut and disappeared entirely.

His absence left a dull sting spreading through Red’s chest. It felt like rejection.

Had he made him _that_ mad?

So mad that Papyrus didn’t want anything to do with him now?

Well, that was for the best, wasn’t it? He’d already come to the conclusion that he was no good for Papyrus. There was a good chance he was just going to get him killed like the other one. This one only had one hit point, too. So fragile. Isn’t it better if he stayed away from him? He shouldn’t be getting attached to the first damn thing that looked like his brother anyway.

Still, as he sat there in the same position Papyrus had left him in, vacant sockets fixed on the floor, he really started to feel empty inside. Cold. And truly small. Like that tiny, crimson flame left in the depths of his soul as it flickered away. There was no one in the house now. Not even the distant bustling of one of the two eccentric brothers. Just him and the walls. Nothing but a thick, permeating silence hanging heavily over the vast space.

He wondered if the house would’ve felt this empty back home.

He wondered if this is what he would have done if he had stayed in his own dimension. Just sit on the couch in a deafening silence, staring at the floor. Waiting for someone who would never come home.

What else was he supposed to do all alone?

He didn’t know how to handle all of this. Emotions. Loss. Change. It was too much. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing. He _needed_ someone to _tell him_ what he was supposed to be doing. Otherwise he started thinking. And it was _bad_ when he started thinking because then he started thinking that…

He didn’t want to be alone right now.

He really didn’t think that he should be left alone right now. He didn’t think that he should be left in this house. He really didn’t want to be in this house. Not _alone._

He needed to leave.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t’ve ever been here.

What was he doing sitting here on his ass indulging in a frivolous fantasy of a some saccharine relationship he _could have_ had with his brother. When his real brother was _dead._ And his murderer was still _out there._

He shouldn’t be here.

He didn’t belong here.

He needed to leave.

Taking a sharp inhale of breath that sounded a bit frayed and broken even to him, Red pushed himself up from the edge of the couch. He leaned and tipped uneasily as he tried to gain his balance, trying to set his feet under him. It wasn’t that his body was unbearably _heavy_ like the night he’d spent without his soul, it was more like he didn’t have the _energy_ to hold himself up properly.

But he _couldn’t_ stay here.

He took a shaky step forward, struggling to hold his balance as he did so. Even such a simple task felt draining. Was that because of what had happened to his soul? He shakily dragged another foot forward and another and another. Until his legs buckled under him.

He _needed_ to leave.

He crumpled pathetically to the floor. His efforts had left him winded. Panting heavily through his fangs, his shoulders heaved. Head weakly slumped over his knees, feet splayed out to the sides behind him. He tried to gather his breath. Yet the gasps seemed to echo. That permeating silence still thick through the entire house. He curled his hands into fists against the floor.

He didn’t _want_ to be alone.

Why had he left him alone? Did Papyrus hate him now? …Like his own brother had? No, that wasn’t fair. Boss had loved him, right? That’s why he had gone so far for his sake. No, _no_. But he had also, definitely _resented_ him. A strong, palpable _resentment_ that had plagued their entire lives. And when Sans had finally fucking _noticed it_ , too–!

–He didn’t even get to _apologize_!–

Yet here he was, hanging around some sickly saccharine version of his brother instead of doing something Boss might have actually appreciated. Instead of getting revenge for him; he was sitting here on his _ass,_ fretting over whether or not history was repeating itself all over again. _Worrying_ that he’d fucked up so badly that he’d _already_ lost this Papyrus’ affection, too. Did he really want this knockoff’s approval that badly? Why did he even _care_?

He _wasn’t_ Boss.

Apologizing to him wouldn’t _change_ anything. Making him like him wouldn’t fix the relationship he’d already _lost._ No matter what he did, he was already…

… _alone._

He didn’t know how many hours he sat on the floor by himself with nothing but his own tormented thoughts left to accompany him. Surely half the day had passed before the door to the cabin finally opened.

The person slipped in quickly, some of the winter chill seeping in along with them. They spun around once they were inside, closing the door by pressing their back against it like they were barricading the outside world from getting in.

It was Papyrus.

He was leaning back against the door heavily, hands in his pockets, head rolled back, face up, eyes closed. He took a deep, steadying breath in the silence. He peeked his eyes open, vivid orange irises glancing across the room towards the sofa. Calling out lazily, “Re—?!”

His whole body flinched when he didn’t see the motionless skeleton in his seat. Eyes flying down to find him. It didn’t take him long. He stilled again once he’d found the broken skeleton, crumpled on the floor halfway to the door. Head hung, vacant sockets staring at nothing. Fists clenched.

Papyrus pushed himself away from the door. “hey, Red,” He greeted softly. The same caution in his voice as was in his steps as he inched ever closer. As he slowly approached the motionless form, he tested, “how are you feeling?”

Red didn’t move, speak, flinch, or answer him in any sort of way.

Papyrus eased onto his knees next to the lifeless skeleton. “looks like you moved,” He muttered in a voice so quietly only the two of them could hear. Even though they were the only two people in the house who could hear it anyway. “did you want something?”

Red didn’t even blink.

“hey, how about we get you back to the couch?” Papyrus offered him a weak grin that didn’t hold. He reached a cautious hand out for him.

Red turned away.

Lolling his head to the side and leaning his torso away to avoid the touch. The movement was slight and weak, but it was the best he could do. He didn’t want to feel it. He didn’t want any more proof that this was reality because this _was_ a lie. A sick, abusive lie. This wasn’t his brother.

Papyrus retracted the hand, crawling around to the other side of him along the floor. He flopped down on the ground, laying down right in the new spot Red’s vacant sockets were staring at. Unlike before; his grin was huge.

“no?” He asked sweetly. Playing the fool, he teased, “i guarantee you the couch is more comfortable than the floor.”

Red made no attempt to acknowledge him.

That is until Papyrus lifted his hand again towards his face.

Red jadedly turned the opposite way, dodging it.

Yet the hand attacked him from that side, too, so Red leaned away from it as well. Shifting back towards the first side lifelessly.

A light hearted-snicker sounded up from the floor. Papyrus was grinning like a madman, “you can keep pulling away from me, but i’m just going to be happy that you’re moving.”

_Fuck._ Why did he have to be so difficult? He was so damn intent on avoiding him before and now he was suddenly _playing_ with him?

It wasn’t _fair._

Which one was it? Did he _like_ him or did he _hate_ him?

No, that wasn’t it either. Even that question was one big distraction from everything he _should_ be doing instead. He didn’t want to get swept up in his pace all over again.

He heard the larger skeleton pull himself up beside him, taking a seat on the floor right next to him. He sat with one leg bent, the other knee tucked up under his chin where he rested his head over a hand. “so,” He speculated, smile gentler, “what’s wrong? are you mad?”

Red was a lot of things, but he wasn’t sure if mad was one of them. At least not in the sense this Papyrus was insinuating. He wasn’t _mad_ at him. He was mostly frustrated he was so damn confusing in the first place.

Papyrus waited patiently next to him, lazily staring down at the motionless skeleton, but he never got a response out of him. “sorry for ditching you,” He mumbled quietly against his knee, tone thick with remorse, “i feel a bit bad,” He chuckled nervously, offering, “i’ll make it up to you. how about an afternoon nap?”

Once again he lifted his hand. This time the long fingers grazed against his cheek before Red turned his head away. Papyrus smirked anyway.

“okay, okay,” he said dismissively in an easy tone. Red heard him pick himself up onto his feet, but he leaned down against his legs so he didn’t tower over him, talking to the smaller skeleton. “not a nap then. how about we just watch tv together?”

Goddamn it. As upset as he was; part of him was just _relieved_ that he was talking to him normally like he had before.

“alley oop,” Papyrus narrated lazily as he slipped his hands under Red’s armpits, lifting him off the floor. Perhaps respecting the way that he’d refused to let Papyrus touch him, the taller didn’t pull him in against his chest as he normally did when he picked him up. Instead of resting him on his hip, the taller simply hauled him off the floor until his feet were dangling just above the carpet. Then, he dragged him backwards at arm’s length, setting him down carefully near the center of the sofa towards the back of a plush pillow. His knees weren’t past the edge of the couch, so his feet dangled over the side.

Red lifelessly melted into the back cushion.

“there. better, right?” Papyrus grinned, freeing his hands from beneath the smaller’s arms. He picked up the remote from the opposite cushion and turned the television on. The noise from whatever loud show was on flooded the house. Then, Papyrus stepped out of the way of the tv, plopping himself down on the corner of the couch next to Red.

  _Literally_ leaving half of the couch unoccupied.

They were sharing the same seat cushion, too, so the second the large skeleton sat down on the seat, the cushion dipped in his direction. Sliding Red a bit closer into his side.

Papyrus sat back with his arms lazily thrown over the back of the sofa. “guess i forgot to turn the tv on before i left, huh? you must’ve been pretty bored,” He flipped through the channels, but the same noisy blue robot seemed to be on every channel, just playing different songs.

Red cared very little about whatever was on tv. Again; he wasn’t used to having the television on when others were around. It was more of a private endeavor, unless he’d fallen asleep watching and Boss had found him. So it was particularly weird to be sitting on the couch now, slightly pressed into Boss’ side.

But this _wasn’t_ Boss.

Red blinked wearily at the noise box. The screen turning into nothing more than a blur of white lights across the room. The sounds shifting into no more than an aberrant background clamor filling the space. His looping thoughts drowned out beneath a welcome commotion.

He was so _tired._

He was so tired of thinking of it all.

Maybe a distraction was nice. He leaned further into the large skeleton’s side, sinking into his fatigue. Maybe he should just admit that, whatever the reason, Boss or not, having this person here now was a comforting notion.

In a drowsy haze, a large hand cupped his face, pressing him further against the warmth. A wandering thumb gently smoothed along his cheek until Red had finally fallen asleep.

 

 

_The surface behind him was hard and stiff and cold. He slowly opened his eyes staring up the towering height of the Ruins’ door as the snowflakes trickled down one by one. He had his back pressed against the stone surface as he sat in the snow. His furred jacket the only thing protecting him from the bite of the winter’s harsh cold. Someone was talking, but he didn’t like what they were saying._

_He looked back down at his little brother, crouching in the snow in front of him. He was staring at him expectantly. Red scarf wound around his neck and thrown over his back like a cape, matching mittens atop his knees, crimson boots tipped forward, favoring leaning towards his big brother rather than away._

_“Together, then,” Pap said, holding up a single pinky poking against his glove, “I promise.”_

_Sans sighed through his nasal cavity. Pap knew he was weak to this childish stuff, so of course he’d use it against him. Clever brat. Reluctantly, he picked up his hand, though it felt like lead weighing him down, twining his finger around the other._

_An instant pulse of regret washed over him. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be allowing this. He_ knew _he’d regret it, yet he couldn’t tell him ‘no’._

_Pap smiled slightly, knowing he’d won._

_He began to bounce their hands, singing along to a childish rhyme to solidify their promise. One which Sans wasn’t entirely convinced wasn’t just made up on the spot. But as the winter winds picked up, the song drowned into a faded hum, which_ did _make the tune sound familiar. Yet as the childish rhyme went on, he was gripped by a sudden, rising dread._

_In the distance, he could hear a door slowly creaking open. That dread twisted into a horrified panic somewhere deep in his soul. It wasn’t the Ruins’ door behind him; he was still sitting against a closed door. And that sound was in the_ distance, _wasn’t it? But what doors were around here other than the Ruins’? And stone didn’t_ creak. _Pap was still bouncing their hands playfully as if he couldn’t hear a thing. As if nothing strange were happening at all. But a certain_ agony _split his skull as that dreadful creaking got LOUDER—_

A door slammed shut somewhere in the distance.

“OH. MY. GOODNESS!” A chipper voice declared, some rapid stomping approached him quickly. And _that_ sort of volume increase could only be preceded by _one_ person. “YOU FINALLY GOT HIM TO SLEEP?!” Blue squealed.

_No one_ was going to sleep through that kind of racket.

Red cringed away from the volume which was _way_ louder than it normally was. Rubbing his cheek weakly against the cushion he was pressed into. He peeked an eye open at the intrusion, but opened both, furrowing his brow, when he realized how uncomfortably _close_ Blue was to him.

Practically only a few inches away. Just on the other side of the armrest before him was his alternate, half his face concealed by the couch.

Two big, cerulean eyes watched him with a certain starry-eyed fascination as he blinked against the light. Blue peeked his skull higher, revealing a massive grin plastered across his face. “OH!” He boomed excitedly, “I GET IT NOW. ‘ _RED’_ BECAUSE HE HAS THESE PRETTY RED EYES, RIGHT?”

“hm? does he?” A lethargic hum sounded off to the side. Which, Red noted, _also_ sounded extremely _close._ Then, he noted, with growing confusion, he was lying down and not sitting up as he had been when he’d first fallen asleep. The ‘ _cushion_ ’ he was lying on shifted as Papyrus brought his shoulder forward, leaning his head back to take a peek, too. Red’s eyes flew open as he realized his cheek was resting on the other’s shoulder— he was lying _on top_ of Papyrus—not the couch.

Yet he had no time to react, before his face was just inches away from _Papyrus_ ’ face. Eyes wide, sockets huge; Red _froze_.

Papyrus’ lazily lidded irises flicked between both his sockets. He felt the whole form below him heave a silent breath of relief. The arms that were wrapped around him like blankets relaxed further into his bones. An adoring grin stretched across Papyrus’ face as his orange eyes softened fondly, “look at that,” he grinned, “so he does!”

Red’s shocked crimson irises stared back.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter:  
> Papyrus decided to put in a little more effort.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
> 
>  
> 
> On a side note:  
> Hello, Dear Reader!  
> Are you the type of person who was planning on re-reading the story from Chapter 1 again sometime soon? I have a big favor to ask of you!
> 
> If you ever figure out what Captain Undyne’s level is; will you please let me know in the comments below? 
> 
> I’m like between three numbers at the moment and I KNOW that once upon a time I spent a lot of time deciphering her level, but stupid me never wrote it down. Then, I don’t know if I actually used it in the story before. If I did; I want to keep it consistent. And if I didn’t; that’s also a useful thing to know! So, if you’re re-reading and find that needle in the haystack, please pass that information over to me. And if you’re re-reading and never find that information, please let me know that, too! If you have a good memory and already know the answer; please share your wise wisdom. If you’re not planning on re-reading already; don’t bother to go back to re-read everything: it’s not THAT important.  
> But if I can get the info from one of you, it’ll save me time so that I can write forward instead of read backwards. Thank you!! XOXO


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
>  CHANGELOG: Minor Update: Chapter 17  
> Minor Update: Chapter 18  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
> 
> I just HAD to keep all the events of this chapter together for my own sanity, so please enjoy this super long double-length chapter! YAY!  
> (Not quite as long as our longest record holder, but damn close!)
> 
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   
> Mandatory Recap:   
> We refused breakfast and took a nap!  
> I bet YA’LL didn’t even know this was an ACTION DRAMA!  
> BOOYAH.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

 

He’d fallen asleep? On _Papyrus?!_

Red supposed a vague part of him remembered leaning into his side, but how the hell had they ended up like this? He was belly-down on top of Papyrus, who was lying on his back, on the couch. Red’s arms were wrapped all the way around his torso in some sort of hug. Perhaps returning the gesture, Papyrus’ arms were lazily draped around him as well. The plush sleeves of his orange hoodie acting like some sort of blanket. Papyrus’ skull was resting against the sofa’s armrest while Red’s head was pressed into his shoulder, cheek to clavicle –and Papyrus’ lazily grinning face was so _close_ to his.

Stunned stiff, Red’s crimson irises darted around nervously for an out.

Finally realizing he _had_ to move; Red untangled his arms from around the wide torso, pushing himself arms’ length away from the other in one quick, jerky movement.

But _that_ just put him hovering a few inches over Papyrus’ face instead!

In a scramble to correct himself; he pushed himself back harder. Falling back on his haunches, he sat back on his knees.

But _that_ just left him straddling Papyrus’ lower waist! His crotch pressed against the other’s spine.

With a startled little _gasp,_ he jumped back up even further. Standing on the couch instead. One foot planted to either side of the skeleton laid out below him. His crimson gaze wavered up along the other’s long form. But towering over him like this just made him feel like he was about to attack the skeleton in the same three steps he’d just reversed!

Yet Papyrus looked completely amused by the whole affair.

“YAY!” Blue cheered, running to the side of the couch as he looked excitedly up at the startled skeleton. “HE’S MOVING!”

The statement might as well have been a jinx. The second he said it; Red realized how shakily unstable his legs were. Not to mention how hard it was to stand with good balance on a cushion. He wobbled slightly, then fell forward.

Right into Papyrus’ hands.

“whoa, watch yourself,” He drawled lazily, catching him at knee-level with two hands beneath his arms. “don’t get _too_ excited.”

Red dipped his head, hiding the growing embarrassment coloring his cheeks. Even sitting up on his knees as he was; he was _still_ straddling Papyrus’ waist. Except _now_ , Papyrus was holding him still in the position.

“okay, hang on,” Papyrus groaned, shifting as he tried to sit up while still holding Red properly upright. The cushions wobbled as the other moved below him. The taller sat up and they were damn near flush with each other, just an inch of space between them –about the same height, too.

But as much as he was tempted to flee; there was _no way_ Red was going to move when Boss’ clone was holding him still here.

He could hear and feel a little more shifting behind him. Then, Papyrus muttered, “and up we go,” quietly near his skull before he lifted a startled Red straight up from under his arms. He swung his own long legs out to the side beneath him, then set the smaller all the way back down on the cushion next to him.

A bit baffled, but mostly mortified, Red curled his fists into the knees of his pants, crimson eyes cast to the floor. He was going to stay perfectly quiet and properly frozen in the spot where Boss wanted him to be until a large hand lightly tapped the back of his head, hovering nearby just in case he suddenly lost strength again. Papyrus leaned a bit down to look at him, inquiring, “is that better?”

Oh, the nerves.

“Y-yes!” He barked out stiffly on an automatic impulse, clenching his hands even further into the fabric of his shorts.

“YOU’RE TALKING, TOO!” With some excited boot stomps, his alternate’s ridiculous costume was in front of him in seconds. Gently, his clone placed his blue gloves over Red’s fists, crouching down in front of him so that he was right in front of his vision. Big, cerulean eyes staring up at him with an accompanying grin, “HI, I’M SANS! IT’S SO NICE TO FINALLY MEET YOU. IT’S _RED,_ RIGHT?”

Red bristled at the contact, then ripped his hands away out from under Blue’s hands. Instead, he folded them across his chest, tucking them safely under each arm to prevent contact. He glanced away from both of the brothers, off to the side, but he didn’t want to risk Papyrus hating him a second time –he didn’t want to be left _alone_ again— so he reluctantly answered Blue’s question. “Yeah,” He croaked the harsh sound out from the depths of his throat. “The n-name’s ‘ _Red’_ ,” he mumbled quietly, letting the better brother have the name.

Well, it was fine. He’d rather not be called _Sans_ anyway.

“ARE YOU FEELING BETTER NOW?” The true Sans asked. The curious tip of his head leaning to try and stay in his sight.

Red rubbed his chest absently, still staring off to the side. “I g-guess so?” He muttered barely above a whisper.

“THAT’S SUCH GOOD NEWS,” His clone sighed relieved the big mystery was over, “SO, YOU JUST NEEDED TO SLEEP, THEN!”

“ _you_ woke him up,” Papyrus chided from the side.

Blue stiffened as if he had just realized that was his fault. “MWEH HEH HEH. _WHOOPSIES_ ,” He apologized, “SORRY ABOUT THAT. I JUST GOT SO EXCITED.”

It was fine. If Red had known he’d pinned Papyrus down and was holding onto him like that he would’ve _wanted_ to be woken up. Why the hell had Papyrus let that go on for so long?

Come to think of it, exactly how long had he slept for?

“ahhh,” Papyrus groaned pitifully, “do you know how hard it was to finally get him asleep?” He complained almost whimsically. The complaint _mostly_ an exaggerated tease.

“I SAID SORRY!”

His brother grinned back at him, dropping the issue. “why’d you come back, Sans? i thought you were off to Undyne’s place.”

“I CAME BACK TO DROP OFF THE FINISHED LAUNDRY… OH!” Red watched Blue scramble away from him suddenly, crawling towards the tv to a small pile of tapes and dvds stacked behind it. “I WAS ALSO GOING TO GRAB THIS SHOW TO TRY AND BRIBE ALPHYS AND UNDYNE WITH! I KNOW ALPHYS WANTED TO SEE IT. I DON’T KNOW IF UNDYNE HAS A COPY.”

“Undyne has a copy of everything,” Papyrus mused lazily.

“PAPY! THAT’S NOT HELPFUL. WHERE’S YOUR FAITH?”

“i wasn’t saying it wasn’t a good idea,” He specified with zero remorse, “just letting you know i’ve seen Undyne’s collection. thanks to Alphys, she’s got a copy of every show that’s ever fallen down here. you’re probably wasting your time.”

“HRMM~” Blue grumbled a noise of pouted displeasure, still searching through the small stack despite his brother’s input. _Again_ disobeying a near direct order. “WELL, WHY ARE _YOU_ HERE, HUH, PAPY? AREN’T YOU WASTING TIME, TOO? AND THIS MORNING YOU TOLD ME YOU WANTED TO GO TO WORK!”

Without missing a beat Papyurs answered in a whimsical manner, “i’m on break obviously. i came back for my afternoon nap.”

Blue sighed exaggeratedly, spinning around to unleash the full force of his disapproving gaze onto his brother. He jabbed a tape accusingly at him, “YOU KNOW, IF YOU WEREN’T HELPING RED, I’D HAVE A THING OR TWO TO SAY ABOUT THAT. WHEN I SAID ‘COME BACK HOME TO SLEEP’ I DIDN’T MEAN DURING THE _DAY._ ”

“you never specified that,” Pap teased back with a lax shrug.

“IT WAS _IMPLIED,”_ Blue corrected exasperatedly, rolling his big eyes back to the tapes. Not finding the recording he was looking for, the short skeleton stood back up, folding his arms as he turned back around. “HONESTLY, WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH YOU? IF YOU DON’T KEEP UP WITH YOUR SHIFTS, YOU MIGHT LOSE YOUR JOB!”

“i doubt it’ll ever come to that.” But the hint of seriousness in Papyrus’ tone disappeared beneath a frivolous grin, “but if you’re so worried about it, Sans, i can just head back out to work right now. no problem.”

Blue blinked at him as if shocked that simple answer did, in fact, solve all the problems. “WELL, I GUESS ALPHYS WOULD HAVE NEVER KNOWN YOU WERE GONE IN THE FIRST PLACE,” He pondered aloud, with a thoughtful fist pressed to his blunt teeth. “WELL, OKAY THEN. THAT SOUNDS GOOD! IF YOU’RE GOING BACK TO WORK, I CAN TAKE RED OFF YOUR HANDS FOR YOU TODAY,” He grinned back at his brother, turning his smile onto the smaller skeleton seated next to him, “WE COULD GO TO UNDYNE’S TOGETHER. IT’LL BE FUN!”

“no, that’s okay, bro.” Red’s eyes flicked nervously to the side as the larger skeleton next to him leaned in. Swaying lazily, yet almost possessively, towards him as he spoke. Red suddenly realized he hadn’t moved. He was still right in the same position Papyrus had set him down in which was directly next to his side. They were still _close_.

He leaned a margin away to dodge any contact with the other as Papyrus idly leaned his weight onto the hand planted in the sofa behind him. “Undyne had seemed like she was avoiding him. showing up with Red at the lab is probably a bad idea. the last thing we need is to scare her all over again,” Papyrus reasoned. “besides, it’s my day to watch Red, right? i can just take him to work with me.”

“IS THAT OKAY?” Blue asked concerned, his cerulean eyes flicking over to the smaller skeleton. Staring at him expectantly. It took Red more than a second to realize that he was asking for his opinion.

Baffled on what sort of answer he was supposed to give, his crimson eyes flew all around the room looking for an answer, before they fell on Papyrus. He was looking down at him expectantly, too, that lazy, unreadable grin plastered across his face.

“you don’t mind, do you?” He prompted.

Immediately, Red shook his head from side to side without thinking—because that was the answer he felt Papyrus _wanted_ him to give.

“great!” Hopping to his feet, the tall skeleton lazily stretched out his back, “that settles it. we’ll go together then.”

It slowly dawned on Red that he had just agreed to spend the rest of the day with Papyrus.

Well, it wasn’t like he hadn’t tagged along with Boss during work hours before. Sometimes he taxied him all around the Underground through shortcuts to assist with his endless workload. This wouldn’t be much different. He could just stand quietly in the background while Papyrus completed whatever it was he had to get done. He’d be fine as long as he stayed out of Papyrus’ way.

Carefully, Red pushed himself up off the sofa onto his feet, testing his legs. They were still a bit shaky, but, unlike yesterday, they supported his weight. As long as they did what they were supposed to do; that was good enough for Red. They were fine. He was fine.

“WAIT!” Blue screeched, waving his arms. “ARE YOU LEAVING RIGHT NOW? HOLD ON ONE MINUTE. YOU CAN’T LEAVE LIKE THIS!”

Red froze, stunned out of his thoughts by the sheer volume of the noise. Yet Papyrus, who seemed to be used to his brother’s louder tendency, simply casually stopped stretching. Letting his arms swing at his sides as he watched Blue race back to the front door. The little skeleton dug around in one of the laundry baskets placed by the entrance, yet this one seemed to have neatly folded clothes, unlike the other two. He pulled out an article, stashing it behind his back, before skipping back over to Red. He flinched when the energetic one landed in front of him with one large, loud leap, grinning up at the timid skeleton immensely.

Red blinked back at him apprehensively, half holding up a defensive pose. A nervous bead of sweat tracing down his cheek. Tense and on edge. He didn’t know _what_ to expect.

“TA-DUM!” Blue sung, presenting the clothing behind his back. It was a freshly pressed black leather jacket. Spotlessly cleaned so even the furred rim of the hood seemed less ratty than it had the last time he’d laid eyes on it. In fact, the last he’d seen it, the coat had been as good as ruined; white wax and red stains everywhere. This was _Red’s_ leather coat. The winter coat he always wore. His treasure. “I CLEANED YOUR JACKET FOR YOU. THERE WAS GUNK ALL OVER IT, BUT PAPY SAID WE PROBABLY SHOULDN’T JUST THROW IT AWAY.”

At a loss for words, Red looked back to Papyrus. He shrugged, “looked important. Sans did all the work.”

“THAT’S BECAUSE MY CLEANING SKILLS ARE TOP NOTCH!” Blue announced proudly, grinning over the top of the coat. He leaned in stealthily, but his ‘whisper’ was too loud to be considered that, “– _PAPY WOULD’VE RUINED IT—_ BUT _I_ FIXED IT UP! DOESN’T IT LOOK JUST AMAZING NOW?!”

“Y—y–yeah,” Red stuttered out, eyes lingering on the taller as he turned back to the coat. His eyelights skimmed the length of the offered coat suspiciously, but he couldn’t keep the slightly pleased tilt that lifted his fangs when he timidly reached out, rubbing the familiar, thick texture between his fingers. His coat was okay.

Blue perked up immensely at the expression. “WELL, PUT IT ON. PUT IT ON!” He insisted excitedly, shoving the jacket into Red’s bumbling hands.

Shyly, and a bit slowly thanks to his sluggish bones, Red slipped the jacket on one sleeve, then the other, tugging it up over his shoulders. It felt great to have the familiar weight and feel of his own coat covering him once again. Plus, there was a cozy lingering heat left over from being freshly washed that warmed all his bones.

“ALL THE WAY UP,” Blue corrected when he stopped after just slipping it on. His alternate knocked his hands away as he took the folds of the zipper into his own blue gloves, tugging the jacket on to make sure the fit was snug. Red leaned back, resisting, digging his feet into the ground, teeth clamped, when the motion pulled him a bit closer into the other. But Blue hardly seemed to notice. He took the zipper and zipped it all the way up to the top. Then, flipped the furred hood down over Red’s head, leaving him blind. “IT’S FREEZING OUTSIDE, YOU KNOW?” Blue chided, tugging the strings of his hood closed while tying them off. “YOU ARE ALREADY UNWELL. SO, YOU NEED TO STAY NICE AND WARM TODAY.”

Red heard a snicker from off to the side.

“YOU, TOO, PAPY!” Blue scolded, turning on him, “DON’T LET HIM GET ANY SICKER. I’M COUNTING ON YOU TO KEEP AN EYE ON HIM WHILE YOU TWO ARE OUT.”

Red timidly peeked out from under his hood to see his alternate wagging a stern finger at his brother.

“i know, i know,” The taller’s practiced drawl agreed –if only to placate his brother. And just when he was about to see Papyrus’ reaction to receiving such an absurd rebuke from Sans, the furred hood was shoved back down over his face as a large hand rubbed down into the top of his skull. “i’ll protect him from the cold.”

“GOOD!” Blue nodded, content with this answer.

Scowling, Red had to lift the disheveled hood up with his hands to clear his eyes. The crimson orbs flicking uneasily between the two brothers.

“shall we head out then?” Papyrus asked, offering the small, bundled skeleton an upturned hand. He was looking down at him expectantly.

Red knew what answer he _wanted_.

“S-sure,” He mumbled, barely above a whisper. Lifting his hand, he hesitated for a second. Then, put it in the larger palm.

“see ‘ya later, Sans,” Papyrus waved lethargically, gripping Red’s hand firmly with the other. He turned, tugging them both into a shortcut. The sudden rush of blackness forced Red to squeeze his hand back in a panic. He would _never_ get used to the fact that this Papyrus could do that. But Papyrus held him firmly all the way to the exit.

In a mere instant, the air chilled to winter’s cruel bite, the world got brighter until it reached the blinding hue of spotless snow, and the two of them were standing out in Snowdin’s forest. Though, he’d stumbled gracelessly out of the exit, Red blinked completely awestruck at all the surrounding landscape. Unlike the Waterfall he’d witnessed before, Snowdin forest looked _exactly_ the same as he remembered it. The pines were the same shade of evergreen. The snow was, well, snow-colored, but it looked the same even down to the small, minute details –such as the crummily assembled wooden stand nestled into the trees next to the side of the road.

He was so awestruck he’d forgotten to let go of Papyrus’ hand.

“well here we are,” The other announced, pulling him towards the wooden station. Red slipped as much as stumbled behind him as they made their way over to the post –and a small part of him was _relieved_ Papyrus hadn’t let go of his hand the second they left the shortcut, lest he fall on his ass with those unsteady legs of his, but a much bigger part of him felt the contact was burning a scar into the bone every second. So, he ripped his hand away the instant they came to a solid stop behind the sole landmark, rubbing the palm tenderly as if it’d been scorched in the freezing cold. Red blinked stupidly at the all-too familiar haphazardly constructed stand, the small, hidden cubby space at the back, and the same creaky box he often slept on.

“welcome to my post,” Papyrus greeted, leaning lazily against the stand’s pole.

“Y—you’re a–,” Red stumbled all over his words as his thoughts tumbled to keep up, “Y-you’re a _sentry?_!”

“that’s right,” Papyrus answered lackadaisically, “ _most_ of the time, anyway.”

The revelation sent his soul pounding in his chest; Papyrus was a lowly _sentry. Papyrus_ sat at a post all day, away from the thick of the action. Papyrus _wasn’t_ the first in line for dangerous, life-threatening calls? Papyrus… _didn’t_ dust other monsters on a near-daily basis?

It was his job. Papyrus had _his_ job.

Shocked, Red lowered his gaze to his sneakers, rolling that information over his head stiffly.

Papyrus wasn’t the Lieutenant.

He wasn’t sure if it was wrong of him to think it; but _oh_ , how part of him _liked_ it. He liked that set-up. Way out here, in the middle of nowhere, there were barely any monsters to begin with –let alone problems to deal with! Out here, Papyrus was relatively safe. It would be almost difficult to get harmed. It would be borderline unlikely that he’d have to dust anyone—!

“what did you _think_ i did?” The other poked teasingly.

“I, uh–” His crimson irises flicked back up to this Papyrus, suddenly seeing him from a much different perspective. A _slightly_ less terrifying one. Yet, as the other’s form towered over him, his answer still came automatically, “I th-thought ‘ya were just a-a higher rank is all.”

He regretted saying it the second it left his mouth.

“ _hmm_ ,” Papyrus seemed to mull that information over in his head considerably. To the point where Red feared that _saying it_ aloud may have inadvertently set Papyrus back on the path to becoming the Lieutenant once more. “not impressed?”

Red’s marrow ran cold.

“N-no!” He blurted out, looking up suddenly, “Th-that wasn’t what I m-meant—!”

Papyrus shrugged casually as if it didn’t matter, stepping out of the way to reveal a better view of the guard’s post, “i mean, i wouldn’t be surprised. it’s not much to look at. there’s only one seat, too.”

Red’s urgency withered away at the other’s utter nonchalance, face falling back to confusion. It hadn’t been the reaction he’d been expecting.

“do you want it?” Papyrus offered, motioning to the sole seat.

The question baffled Red even more. He couldn’t get a clear answer from the other’s expression alone. What answer would he want him to give? _Him_? Take Boss’ –no—Papyrus’ only chair? No way in hell. Right? What motive would he even have to want him to? “Nah. I’m f-fine. I’ll stand,” Red grumbled awkwardly even as he leaned against the wooden table to help take the strain off his feeble legs.

“suit yourself.” Papyrus plopped himself lazily into the seat instead.

Mulling over his confusion, Red glanced away from the strange clone, glancing off down the winter road. Had he been wrong? Did this Papyrus really not care about ranks at all? But – _no—_ of course, _Papyrus_ would care, right? He was ambitious. He wanted to be great. He was obsessed with the ranks.

It was a mistake to mention it. In his gut, he _knew_ it was.

Papyrus only ever had one thing on his mind—

“do you like the snow?” The lazy drawl asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Red glanced back over at the seated skeleton, feeling suddenly nervous when he caught the other’s lidded orange irises watching him intently. “N-not particularly,” he mumbled, eyes flicking off to the side as he sunk down to both elbows where he stood. The table was shoddy, but it was still a good support.

“it’s just, you seem to be staring,” Papyrus noted, “i thought maybe you liked the scenery.”

“It’s nothin’ special,” Red grumbled, barely audible, sinking even lower into his arms.

“so you’ve seen it all before then? you’re used to it,” That last phrase was a statement, not a question. A very _accurate_ statement. The accuracy of which sent a nervous jolt through his entire spine. Shit. He was slipping up all over the place, wasn’t he?

“W-w-what makes ‘ya say that?” Red snapped a bit too abruptly.

Papyrus blinked at him, unmoving, as if the answer were obvious. “well… for starters, you were wearing a winter coat when we found you. i thought maybe you were used to the snow.”

_Oh._ “Don’t j-just assume things,” Red grumbled, relaxing back down into his awkward stance, leaning over the table. It was a weird angle to bend over. He had to put most of his weight onto the table or else it wasn’t particularly nice to his already unsteady legs either.

“so, you’re uncomfortable with it?”

“I’m fine!” Red closed his eyes, annoyed, huffing out a foggy breath, “I said I’d s-stand, didn’t I?”

Papyrus smirked at him knowingly. “i meant with the cold. are you uncomfortable with the cold?”

Fucking—

“N-nope. Coat’s warm,” Red muttered, hugging the leather sleeves of his arms a little closer at the mere mention of the temperature. He glared again off down the vacant road, past his hood, keeping an eye out for travelers. He had to keep in mind they were outside now. He had to stay alert here. Yet he was hoping no one would come down Papyrus’ road. He didn’t want anyone who needed something to come up to his station. He didn’t want anyone to bother Papyrus, then they would just sit here safely until his shift was finally over.

One hit point, right?

That wasn’t a temporary side effect from the siphon, was it? Blue had made it sound like a permanent affliction. Red had never known another monster with only one hit point before. When it was him; it was fine. But when it was _Papyrus_ ; the thought was somehow terrifying.

One wrong hit and he’d be dust. That’s probably why he was out here, in the middle of nowhere, rather than commanding the whole sector as he normally would. It was just strategically a smarter place to be in his predicament, but it didn’t come without its risks. Red knew firsthand, with only one hit point, _everything_ came with risks.

Together, they’d be okay, though. He could guard him until his shift was over.

Hah.

What a ridiculous thought! _Guard_ Papyrus. Papyrus didn’t need his help. He was sure, one hit point or not, Papyrus was more than capable of taking care of himself. He was sure Papyrus would have found a way to make the handicap work in his favor. He wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if Papyrus had this whole town wrapped around his little finger with all sorts of intimidation tactics.

Still, he kept a watchful eye cast down the road.

Slowly, blinking. Putting more and more weight against the table.

“Red,” The other called.

He jumped slightly hearing his name. His crimson eyes flicked back to his owner’s face.

“you look pretty sleepy there, buddy.”

“I’m awake,” He growled, hunching further into his coat. But even then, he blinked a bit slowly. Eyes never fully open, his sockets were lidded, too.

Papyrus raised a skeptical brow. “oh, i don’t doubt you’re awake _right now._ i was more concerned about the next couple of seconds.”

Red snorted derisively.

“your nap got interrupted pretty quickly earlier. are you still tired from before?”

“I _ain’t_ tired,” He insisted, still leaning the vast majority of his weight over the table because of his inability to support himself.

“ _Red,_ ” Papyrus called his name doubtfully, “if you’re going to doze off, i can’t have you falling over into the snow and getting even more sick. Sans will kill me. come here.”

Red’s socket twitched.

‘ _Come here’_ was a command that he was _very_ used to receiving from Boss. One of his most used, in fact. While he knew this Papyrus wasn’t Boss—he _wasn’t_ his brother –Red still knew a strong part of him didn’t want to disappoint him. He didn’t want to end up on even _this_ Papyrus’ bad side again. _Desperately so._ And the only way he knew how to make ‘Papyrus’ happy was by doing anything and everything he told him to.

Plus, the way he’d called his name –with that _slightly_ testy edge.

He was probably pushing his luck arguing with him in the first place. Hell, he must be half mad to think he could bicker with him at all. Maybe it was the lack of sleep talking?

Reluctantly, Red pushed himself away from his stance, walking slowly around the table to obey the order. Being careful on the ice. Surprisingly, Papyrus was pretty lenient with how long it took him to shuffle over to him. The small skeleton stopped in front of the other, eyes on his sneakers.

Papyrus stifled a little huff of a laugh, looking him over. “even your legs are shaking. come on,” with that he slipped two hands beneath his arms. Red blinked deliriously as he lifted him off the ground. “you probably shouldn’t be standing ankle-deep in the snow, anyway,” He stated, setting the small, baffled skeleton down on his knee—on his _lap_.

In public –well, there was no one else around –but this place, though remote, was public enough for someone to see them if they happened to wander by. Plus, you never knew where there were eyes watching. Getting caught like this couldn’t be good for Papyrus’ carefully devised reputation.

What would people say if they found _Papyrus_ with a monster curled up on his lap?

“W-what are ‘ya d-doin’?!” Red shouted. Perfectly awake. Perfectly _sane. He_ wasn’t the one who was half-mad here.

“you’re cold, aren’t you?” The other countered.

“ _No!_ I said I was f-f-fine!” Red squirmed, trying to slip out of his hold -back to the ground for safety.

“stop struggling, you’re gonna fall off,” Papyrus snickered, wrapping an arm securely around his thick middle to hold him on. “look; it’s not a big deal. if you’re gonna fall asleep at least do it properly,” he instructed, tapping the table in front of him.

‘ _Stop struggling’;_ so he did. Letting his legs dangle limply just above the snow. How could Papyrus care so little about his own damn reputation? Wasn’t it dangerous? Wouldn’t it be bad? _Worse,_ was he just doing this because he thought Red needed to sleep even more? A catnap shouldn’t come at the expense of a reputation that likely kept Papyrus from harm.

“I-I ain’t fallin’ asleep!” Red denied desperately. He could still be useful to him here! He wasn’t _that_ tired.

“you were,” The drawl countered.

“I won’t!”

“you _should_ ,” Papyrus corrected, insisting, “take a nap.”

‘ _Take a nap.’_ Yet another direct order.

He stopped arguing. He gave up.

An order was an order. Papyrus clearly didn’t want his help. Red didn’t want to risk the consequences of disobeying him either. Against his better judgement, the smaller folded his arms across the spot on the table Papyrus had tapped earlier. Dropping his head into his sleeves.

Papyrus blinked at the suddenly obedient skeleton, taken off guard by the abrupt change in his demeanor. He smirked almost apologetically down at him. “there’s nothing but snow out here to look at anyway,” He offered weakly, “you won’t miss anything.”

“Yeah, _yeah._ I know,” Red grumbled. The complaint mostly muffled by his sleeve. He closed his eyes, face obscured by the hood, but he couldn’t just sleep on command. Not that it wasn’t, somewhat, _comfortable_ to be sitting on down like this. Giving his legs a rest was actually sort of nice. It was the contact that bothered him the most. The knee between his legs. The arm wrapped around his torso.

He should’ve just taken the damn seat before Papyrus had.

How was he supposed to sleep like this?

Maybe if he stayed perfectly still, Papyrus wouldn’t notice. Maybe he could just pretend to be asleep. Then, if Papyrus never figured him out, he wouldn’t get mad. He wouldn’t ignore him again. Plus, as long as he stayed attentive, he could slip away before it did any damage to Papyrus’ reputation. Then, everyone would be happy. Win-win.

So, tense, Red stayed perfectly still. Trying his damndest not to move a single bone. He glared at the inside of his hood. It didn’t matter if his eyes were open, right? It wasn’t like Papyrus was going to see them when his furred hood covered most of his face. It wasn’t like he’d ever know. Plus, this wasn’t so bad, right? At least he was leaning away from Papyrus and over the table instead of laying entirely _on top_ of him as he had before. In comparison, the contact was minimal.

The arm around his waist wasn’t squeezing him either, just sort of loosely tucked around him as a precaution. He could do this. They weren’t really tou—

Red flinched as Papyrus shifted below him. The other’s form pressing against his back as he leaned forward, resting his elbow next to the small skeleton on the wooden table.

“ah, sorry.” Papyrus had felt him jerk. “just getting comfortable,” He explained with a mild concern raised in the tone.

Red sighed heavily, burying his head further into his arms. It didn’t escape him how the heave pressed his back against the other’s torso where they now touched. He dug his fingers into his sleeves. Fucking hell. Why was Papyrus like this? Why did he give such stupid orders? Or was there a _different_ reason for this? Just don’t think about it. Don’t think about it _at all_.

Yet several minutes passed and Papyrus hadn’t moved. Probably _comfortable_ in his new position propped against the stand. Completely oblivious to how hunching over the smaller must’ve _looked_ to any stray onlooker _._ All the while, Red had to sit there, curled underneath him, _feeling_ every slow, steady breath from the other that pressed against his lower spine.

Yet for all the time that passed, Papyrus never did anything more. He never forced them closer together. Or slip his hand under his coat. Or do anything with that knee that was pressed between his legs. Until Red was finally left with the conclusion that Papyrus probably didn’t care about any of that.

He didn’t have some weird ulterior motive to catch Red unconscious other than the fact that Red might actually get some honest sleep out of it. Somehow, everything was as it seemed at face value. The lap was just to keep him out of the snow. The arm simply to steady him. The places where his back touched just so Papyrus could idle at his post as he usually did, wasting time. And the fact that he hadn’t even mentioned his insubordination after realizing Red was awake after he had told him to sleep probably meant Papyrus didn’t give a damn _at all_.

Which was nice.

Because that meant Papyrus didn’t _truly_ care if Red slept at all either. And knowing that failing to fall sleep wouldn’t inadvertently invoke Papyrus’ anger was a comforting notion. A type of ease he hadn’t known for some time. Not worrying about the consequences of his action –or inaction- was nice.

Papyrus didn’t care.

Papyrus thought it was _safe_ to be sitting like this. Or they wouldn’t be doing it.

Papyrus was just waiting until his shift was over –and Red just happened to be waiting with him.

Much less tense, Red peeked past the slit of light between the fabric of his lowered hood and sleeve. He was worrying for nothing. He didn’t need to guard anyone. No one was out here. Not this far. Nothing was in the distance but the endlessly white landscape. Snow silently drifting down. The fabric of his familiar jacket kept the bite of winter away. The calm, reassuring breaths behind pressing warmth against his back until his own breathing matched the other’s. Slow. Steady.

How many times before had he fallen asleep to this exact scenery?

Somehow, his eyes felt heavy.

 

 

 

_The snow crunched as he paced nervously along the frozen path trying to sort through a jumble of horrid thoughts. Running through a million emergency practice conversations in his head. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Not knowing only amplified all his worst imaginings into real, blinding terror until the shiver rattling his bones couldn’t be blamed merely on the cold. He didn’t know why he was waiting around! Surely, he’d find him if Sans stayed in one spot. He couldn’t keep running forever. He knew he’d have to face him eventually._

_But what could he possibly say?_

_No excuse he could bumble out would pass as a valid apology. He was going to be so mad at him. It was all his fault. He was going to be so upset. He was going to be absolutely livid. Right? He knew that at the very least he would lecture him so severely Sans would_ wish _he were dead a hundred times over. Or_ worse.

_He might ask him ‘Why?’_

_And what could he possibly say to that? After failing him so badly. After letting him down. The dread of that simple question pooled in his gut like the most volatile acid._

_Oh, he’d really done it this time. He’d_ really _fucked up. How could he have possibly killed—_

_“P-Pap,” He choked out the name weakly, spotting the smaller silhouette approaching through the swirl of fog. A slight jolt of shock shaking his already rattling bones. He had caught up to him so much sooner than he’d been expecting him to._

_His little brother stepped out of the haze of snow like a phantom back from the dead. Crimson scarf swirling almost hauntingly behind him in the wind. But worse was his face. Head angled down, red eyes lowered, a slight, taut, yet acute frown plastered across his expression, his mittens curled into the hem of his shirt painfully._

_Papyrus was so obviously disappointed in him._

_He wasn’t ready. He couldn’t do this. He could NOT do this._

_“Pap, I didn’t mean ‘ta—” Sans was already backing up away from him, stumbling all over his own feet. “–I-I never meant ‘fer ‘ya ‘ta–” The_ snap _of a stray branch interrupted him as he tripped over it, bumbling out a long list of pre-arranged excuses and forgoing a proper greeting entirely. “I –I d-didn’t know ‘ya were—” But that’s all they were:_ excuses.

_Excuses. Excuses! EXCUSES!_

_He didn’t DESERVE to be talking to Papyrus like this. Not after what he’d done to him. This was all his fault! He shouldn’t be here spouting off a long list of excuses at him like he could be_ forgiven _for it_. _Not after everything he’d made him lose!_

_He took one last, horrified look at his little brother. Eyes moist. Vision blurred. Then, like the fucking coward he was; he fled into a shortcut. Into the blackness. Leaving the sole child behind, all alone, in the forest._

_He stumbled out of the exit sloppily, catching himself against the trunk of a tree in another part of the forest. Chest heaving, he gripped his coat, allowing the panic to subside as he slipped down against the bark._

_What was he even doing? What the HELL was he doing? Why was he running from him? What would avoiding him do? He knew, no matter where he ran, no matter where he escaped to, Pap would always find him. Again and again and again._

_Surely, Papyrus would catch up to him eventually._

 

Dread sunk into his soul when he heard the telltale clinking of armor approaching them from the distance. Yet his bones were too sluggish to react. Shit. When had he dozed off? He struggled to even open his eyes before that militant, metallic clink was surely close enough to spot him.

“Hey, Papyrus, good evening,” A woman’s voice called in greeting. “You wouldn’t happen to have a smoke on you, would ‘ya?”

A low, rumbling growl emerged from the depths of Red’s throat in warning as the woman approached. In the blur of his sleep-deprived vision he could see the glint of the armor nearing right past the slit between his hood and sleeve. _Wake up,_ he commanded his sluggish body. He needed to move. Red picked his head up groggily. He’d only gotten about halfway up when a large hand shoved him back down into his arms, soothing him back into slumber.

“sure thing,” Papyrus agreed smoothly, cutting of his growl abruptly with the face-plant. Red felt the arm around his waist tighten, holding him on as the lap shifted. The hand left his skull while Papyrus shuffled around in his hoodie pocket for the requested item.

“My, my,” The woman’s voice keened fondly, waiting right in front of the wooden stand. “And who is this you have here with you today, Papyrus?”

Red could hear the signature _click click click_ of a lighter somewhere past his hood. The smell of tobacco wafted down through the winter wind. Then, the skeletal hand rubbed fondly into the top of his hood once again, “this lil’ guy is Red. he’s a relative visiting from out of town.”

The nerve of calling him ‘little’ in front of someone else. Was he trying to get him targeted?

He heard that armor clink as the passerby leaned over. _Closer._ All his bones tensed reflexively, but that large hand was still set at the back of his head. Thumb still rubbing a calming rhythm into the base of his skull, but the palm was still now. Simply a slight weight holding him down. Though quiet and unforceful; Red understood the order all the same.

‘ _Stay_.’

So, he didn’t lift his head. For as unnerving as it felt that this stranger was scrutinizing him, he knew they wouldn’t dare lay a hand on him now. Not with Papyrus right here. He was safe as long as he was with Papyrus, right?

“Ooh? Well, ain’t he just a cutie.”

Red resisted the urge to snarl. Damn them patronizing him. He didn’t dare disobey, but he shook his head up just enough to glare hatefully past the furred lining of his hood at the dog.

Except, it wasn’t a _dog_.

There was a _rabbit_ staring down at him instead. A bit older, rounded face, short whiskers, small, but wide ears, thick lipstick across her lips, a cigarette sitting between them. There was a slight purplish tint to her fur in the darker evening light. She looked a lot like the jaded shopkeeper he vaguely remembered, but why was she in armor? She pushed herself up to her full height, crossing her gauntlets as she stared down at him, a slight smirk tilting her lips that made Red feel uneasy.

He’d never seen a _rabbit guard_ before. Snowdin had always been the dog’s territory.

Uncomfortable with this unknown, Red pushed himself back until he slipped his skull out from under Papyrus’ hand entirely. Leaning back away from the unfamiliar woman until he could go no further into the wider chest behind him. The fur of his coat practically bristling with his unease. The smaller skeleton glared up vilely up at the guard –his gaze a mix of rage and confusion. Body language alone a clear threat to stay the hell away.

“ _Red_ ,” Papyrus’ drawl called softly in warning. The hand secured his waist a little tighter.

His crimson eyes flicked up to Papyrus hovering over him, a slight edge of concern marring his otherwise lax features.

He didn’t know what was going on, but he got it. He fucking _got it_ , okay? Papyrus wanted to handle this himself without his interference. Papyrus wanted him to _play nice_. Mostly, Papyrus wanted him to stay out of the way. But there was no way he would lie down in range of this stranger.

So, irately, Red folded his arms. Kicked his legs across Papyrus’ other knee and rolled away from the woman, deflecting his glare into the hoodie instead. Leaving Papyrus to scramble to support his back before he fell. He knew _this_ Papyrus would catch him.

Maybe he was taking a little bit of advantage over that kindness.

“Oho!” The rabbit laughed, completely amused at his behavior. “Am I disturbing you?”

Of course she was.

“no, it’s alright,” Papyrus said, wrapping both his arms around Red for better support. He felt the taller relax into the hold quite casually. That wandering thumb rubbing comfortably against the back of his shoulder as he hugged the smaller in.

“You know,” She continued, “From a distance, I really thought it was Sans sleeping at your post! It wasn’t until I got closer that I realized it wasn’t him. I should’ve known better,” She laughed. “I guess sleeping on the job really isn’t in his personality. Still, the family resemblance is uncanny!”

“turns out i’m the oddball,” Papyrus laughed.

She paused at that. Blinked. “You mean, he’s not a kid? He’s…”

“same age as Sans, probably,” The skeleton answered. Looking down at Red, he shrugged, “maybe older?”

“Really?!” She asked bewildered. Looking the smaller skeleton in his arms up and down once again in shock. Causing an embarrassed flush to hit Red’s cheeks. Yeah, yeah. Get an eye-full. He was a grown man sitting in another grown man’s lap. For as hostile as he _wanted_ to be, instead he sunk shamefully into his seat, obscuring his face further within his furred jacket. Hiding his flush deeper into the hoodie.

“he’s a bit sick, so, Sans and I are looking after him.” Red was too mortified to process how this idiot was giving away his weaknesses left and right.

“My! You boys really are so good,” She commended. “Well, best of luck to you and yours. I’ve got to walk the path back before it gets too late. Can’t keep the girls waiting, you know. _Someone’s_ got to kick their butts at cards,” He could hear the clink of her armor as she leaned a bit closer. “Sorry to interrupt your nap, Red,” She cooed almost teasingly. “See you later, Papyrus. Thanks for the smoke!”

“sure, anytime. hope you win. bye, Bonni,” Pap waved, wrapping his hand back around the smaller skeleton seated in his lap. Red heard the clink of her armor disappear back down the path as the rabbit walked away from them. Still he didn’t move, arms crossed, glaring stubbornly into the hoodie.

“aaaaaand, she’s gone,” Papyrus said when the sound of armor had all but disappeared. He looked back down at the little one curled up in his arms. Red felt a gentle hand stroke the back of his skull lightly, “not much of a people person, are you?”

Red frowned, knocking away the mocking hand. “ _Sorry_ ,” he grumbled nervously into the fabric, recognizing the slight reprimand in the words, “Was s-s-she an ally of ‘yers?”

Maybe he’d been unnecessarily hostile to someone he shouldn’t have.

“ally?” Papyrus asked curiously as if the term were foreign, “i mean, i _guess_ you could call her that.”

“’Ya don’t even know?!” Red shoved himself away staring up at the taller in shock. He quickly covered his mouth with a hand, realizing he’d _yelled_ at him. But it was ridiculous! How could he not keep track of who he was safe with and who he wasn’t? He lowered his hand away, still mumbling a complaint, “’Ya should’ve k-kicked me off ‘yer lap the second ‘ya saw her comin’, then!”

Pap quirked a smile, pulling him back in and burying his face in his chest. “but look how comfy you’ve gotten because I didn’t.”

“This ain’t _comfy_ ,” Red pulled back, pushing them arm’s length away. “This a-ain’t the time ‘ta be _comfy_ either. Just l–l-let me off.”

“you sure you don’t want to sleep longer?” He asked in a far too casually relaxed voice, “you only got about another two hours or so.”

He’d slept on his lap for over _two hours?_

“I a–ain’t tired anymore,” Red grumbled, glancing off to the side.

Papyrus raised a skeptical brow at the remark, “really. if you’re still tired you can sleep more. _and_ if you’re more comfortable like this,” He gestured to Red’s legs draped over his other knee, “you can sleep like this, too. it’s not like i’d mind.”

Red immediately slipped his legs off of Papyrus’ other leg. “Yeah? Well, ‘ya s-should. I c-c-can’t believe ‘ya let someone see us like this.” Surprisingly, Papyrus allowed him to hop off of his lap, too, without any intervention –even though he’d been so insistent before. Now standing between his legs, he glared up at the taller, “‘Ya should b-be more attentive! Ain’t ‘ya supposed ‘ta be a sentry?”

“no need to be so shy,” He snickered dully. “the only people who really come out this far are Sans and Bonni.” The latter being the one he was worried about. She’d seemed pretty damn amused at that whole spectacle. That guard had a bit of a gossipy air about her, too. If they weren’t allies, then she wasn’t obligated to keep Papyrus’ secrets. What would possibly stop her from telling other people?

They hadn’t even threatened her before she left! Papyrus—He’d simply _wished_ her well at cards after handing over a cigarette. This wasn’t— Wait. He wasn’t wrapped up in some kind of extortion because of his HP, was he?

“sorry,” Papyrus said gently after a pause, looking his troubled expression over. “did i embarrass you?”

“That ain’t it,” Red muttered under his breath, eyes downcast, expression still distraught. He was more worried about Papyrus. He couldn’t let someone who seemed so soft, both figuratively and literally, to run around and get an _equally_ soft reputation!

“well, look on the bright side; you seem to be standing fine, now,” Papyrus grinned lazily down at the smaller –now standing upright on seemingly sturdy legs, “as long as you’re up, let’s get you back home. it’ll be nothing but boring if you sit around here in the cold.”

Red’s glare softened a margin as he glanced back up at the other. He couldn’t stay mad at him. Especially not when he seemed to be completely oblivious to the danger he was putting himself in. He’d blabbed so much information to that Bonni woman! Where the hell had all of Papyrus’ tactical expertise gone? Honestly, getting _him_ inside sounded like a pretty good idea, too.

“’Yer comin’, t-too, right?” He asked cautiously, stuffing his hands in his pockets for warmth.

Papyrus’ lax features blinked at him before a big smile stretched across his face. His large hand slipped in easily next to Red’s cheek, rubbing the fur of his hood between his fingers, “of course i’m coming too!” Then, he flipped the fallen hood back down over Red’s head, tugging it much too far down; thus, obscuring the smaller’s face entirely. Left completely blind, Red stumbled to fix the hood as the taller stood up. “no one’s gonna care if i leave now, anyway,” He explained leisurely, gathering his lighter and cigarettes from the stand, “plus work’s almost over. let’s play hooky together and leave early.” Red freed his sockets enough to peek up from beneath the hood’s rim just as the taller winked down at him, “just don’t tell, Sans.”

Red nodded instantly. Anything to get him away from other lurking monsters. Red couldn’t protect the fool as long as he kept passing out the way he had been. Papyrus _should_ be more than capable of taking care of himself. At least, he _wanted_ to believe that, but… between the siphon and this encounter, he was starting to doubt that this easy-going Papyrus had any interest in protecting himself whatsoever.

If that were the case, there was no way in hell he could leave him out here alone.

His crimson eyes ran the length of the taller skeleton, taking in this unusual clone of his brother once more. Red immediately frowned at the outfit. That ridiculously vibrant hoodie. It was practically a beacon in the snow. He hadn’t even come to his shift prepared in better gear. Though, it had been a spur of the moment decision to come to his shift at all. But, Boss would’ve taken the time to put on something sensible! _Boss_ wouldn’t have been late for his shift at all.

He had more in common with Boss than just his _appearance_ … right?

He apprehensively watched the ‘familiar’ skeleton finish stuffing his belongings into his pocket, then he turned back to Red with that lazy expression. Oblivious and carefree. Papyrus offered him a hand.

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He _eagerly_ took the offer. He was more than ready to get him out of danger and somewhere safe instead. Clearly, Papyrus hadn’t been prepared for this, _at all_.

He braced himself for the rush of the shortcut as Papyrus pulled them into the void. He felt the other squeeze his hand firmly in the darkness, even though he hadn’t panicked or flinched this time even once. Was that to reassure him? Or was Papyrus just being careful not to lose him?

The additional concern was unnecessary.

The exit spat them out in the cabin’s living room. Red may have held his resolve in the void; but he could _not_ get used to being a passenger through a shortcut. He stumbled all over his feet on the landing. Papyrus held onto his hand while the small skeleton steadied himself past the distortion. Holding on a ‘ _little’_ longer than he needed to; Red had to yank his hand away jerkily before the other finally let go.

Had he not realized that he’d already gotten his feet under him?

Red rubbed the back of his freed palm absently, guarding it with his other hand as he stared up at the weird stranger with a questioning frown.

“you must be hungry by now,” Papyrus stated as he stretched out his back from hunching over all day. “what do you say? think you could eat some dinner?” He asked lazily with that same smooth grin plastered over his face. Either oblivious or insensitive to Red’s growing concern.

Honestly, he was having trouble understanding why either of these brothers were bothering with him to this extent to begin with. Why were they keeping him around this long? Especially now that he was moving on his own. Was he under some kind of watchful guard? Was that why they kept taking turns with him? He was some kind of prisoner? Or ward maybe? Why feed him then?

Cradling his hand, he furrowed his brow suspiciously, glaring cautiously up at the other.

“I—I g-guess so? _Sure_ ,” Red answered under the expectant stare of those vivid orange eyes staring back. Less because he actually felt hungry and more because he felt that was the answer Papyrus wanted him to give.

“ok. i’ll see what i can do.” Without so much as another glance at him, Papyrus made his way into the kitchen, leaving Red alone in the living room.

Unattended.

This was the second time, too, wasn’t it?

Truth was; he had _no idea_ what was going on anymore. Red glanced both ways nervously, watching all of his speculations fall spectacularly apart—before finally following Papyrus into the kitchen. What else was he supposed to do?

The taller had his head stuck in a pantry, pulling out some pans and ingredients to the counter. “let’s see what we’ve got,” He mumbled more to himself than for any prying ears. Red approached silently, stopping uncertainly just behind him. Papyrus seemed to be oblivious to how close the smaller was standing because when he stepped back suddenly, Red had to leap back to avoid any contact.

They missed each other. Papyrus carried on making his way over to the stove, dragging a large pot along with him. Red trailed behind him quietly. This time waiting next to him rather than directly behind to avoid a potential second collision.

Papyrus seemed to look over the utensils thoughtfully, pulling open the far drawer and grabbing some unknown items out of it. He spun back around to reach for the other ingredients he’d left on the counter. Only to find an unexpected shadow waiting under his arm that caused the taller to _jump_ —causing _Red_ to jump, too.

They startled each other.

Papyrus cracked a smile first, hand over his soul. “shit, i thought you were sitting down in the living room!”

Red stared up, eyes huge. Was _that_ what he was supposed to be doing? He hadn’t given him any instructions to sit down. In fact, he hadn’t given him any instructions at all! How was he supposed to guess that? Boss didn’t usually like him to be unnecessarily lazy. … _Right_?

“Y–‘Ya never t-told me to,” His excuse came out weakly, shaking his head faintly in denial. Fear in his eyes. Why was he even making excuses? _Shut up._ He should just _listen._ So, he turned to obey.

“what? wait –no,” Papyrus seemed unusually flustered and confused, his normally lax mask broken. “you can stay if you want to.”

That remark just left Red _hopelessly_ confused. It must have shown all over his expression as he stopped retreating to look back at Papyrus completely perplexed at being offered a choice.

“actually, if you’re staying, want to help out?” Papyrus offered uncertainly, picking up the largest pot at the stove and handing it towards Red. “could you fill this up with water? to be honest, i don’t know how i feel about bending over right now. nyeh heh. so, you’d be doing me a big favor.”

Red glanced nervously from the pot to the abnormally low sink. _Of course,_ the giant wouldn’t want to use something so short. Not after sleeping on the floor all night while Red stole his bed. Then, he’d slept on top of Papyrus on the sofa, preventing him from moving or stretching out. Then he’d slept on him a second time at the post! Needless to say, if he was having back problems it was probably _his fault_ somehow.

Red nodded his head almost instantly, taking the pot.

“thanks.”

“Y-yeah, sure?” Red mumbled as he took it over to the unusual sink. But, how much water did he need? What was he even making? Red looked back at Papyrus standing over the stove, but he’d turned back to whatever he was doing. Red felt too nervous to ask. It was safe to assume he was boiling something, right? So, Red filled the pot up with a large portion of water, then carried it carefully back.

“U-uhm. Got it,” He muttered, handing the pot back to Papyrus.

“great. thanks!” Papyrus said taking the pot from him and setting it on the stove. Then, he handed Red a slightly shorter pot, “this one, too?”

“Ok,” Red responded quietly, as he took that pot as well. It was shorter than the other, but without further instructions, Red just filled this one up for boiling as well. When he carried it back, Papyrus was sorting through several spices set on the counter as if he were trying to decide which to use. Red didn’t want to bother him, so, standing on his tip toes, he silently slipped the pot onto the available burner next to him.

“oh! good, thanks,” Papyrus said again when he finally turned around to find the second pot.

Why’d he keep thanking him? It wasn’t like this was hard labor. Red didn’t really know what to say, quietly grumbling, “Yeah. D-don’t mention it?” But Papyrus didn’t follow up with any more instructions, so Red stood next to him. Patiently waiting for his next command.

He watched Papyrus open a red can and dump its contents into the larger pot with a _splash_. Red cringed. He hadn’t even turned the burner on yet. Then, he did the same with a second can of the same substance. Red peeked over the top of the counter at the discarded cans, reading ‘ _tomato paste_ ,’ across the tin.

Wait.

He wasn’t making _sauce_ in that pot, was he? Red nervously glanced back at the larger pot Papyrus was now stirring. If he had known that; he wouldn’t have put so much water in it! Why hadn’t Papyrus ordered him to dump some out? Now, the tomato paste was going to be mixed into it already. It was impossible to separate them to correct it now!

He wouldn’t. Would he? He would’ve said something if he was, right?

Yet Red anxiously watched Papyrus dump some other very sauce-like ingredients into the overly watery pot such as basil, salt, and garlic. Until he couldn’t _not_ open his mouth.

“A–a–are you—I mean, Is–is that... _sauce?_ ” He croaked out uncertainly.

“you noticed, huh?” Papyrus hummed happily, as if pleased that it was recognizable, “yep! it sure is. i’m going to make us some spaghetti. homemade spaghetti. starting from the barest ingredients.” He sounded so proud even as he dumped dill into the pot instead of oregano. Then, lit the burner. He also lit the second burner, much to Red’s confusion.

“you like spaghetti, don’t you?”

Red nodded timidly up at the smiling skeleton.

“good, because that’s about all i can cook.”

He was completely unsure if he was supposed to correct him or not. So instead, he watched silently, stuck between desperately wanting to say something and being far too afraid to, as Papyrus added the rest of his ingredients into the tomato water. Using the correct items this time, but often the wrong amount, as he stirred the additions into the pot. Earnestly explaining the recipe as he did so the entire time in that lax, monotonous voice of his. Most of which drowned out into a blurb in the background because Red was _far too_ preoccupied watching each incorrect addition than to listen to Papyrus’ grand version of the recipe.

The taller then put the lid on and turned up the burner, letting it steam. “—and then we steam out the extra water until it has that sauce-like-consistency–”

Well. It would certainly need to cook for a _long ass_ time to evaporate all that extra water away.

By then, the second empty pot had come to a boil. So, Papyrus reached across the counter, collecting a long box that rattled. He poured out some stiff spaghetti into his hand. “—well, except, the noodles aren’t handmade. i can’t make them like y…” He stopped, looking down at the small skeleton peeking curiously over the counter under his arm. Their eyes met. Red wasn’t quite so sure why he felt so nervous that they had, but Papyrus seemed pretty excited. At least, he _was_ excited _,_ until he saw Red, that is. Where he stopped dead in his tracks. His smile slowly waned, calming himself as he corrected, “like the ones you can find at the store. plus, it’s easier!”

He put a hefty amount of noodles in the pot –and by that, he meant the whole damn box –which might have been ‘a _bit’_ much to fit between the two of them. But Red was more concerned about _why_ he was putting the noodles in at all. They’d only take a few minutes to cook. While the sauce they’d just started would take over an hour before it would be done –especially with all that extra water.

After a few minutes of watching the pots boil, Papyrus asked uncertainly, “you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

Red guessed maybe Papyrus finally realized how many noodles he’d actually put in the pot, now that they were expanding, but the guy seemed so excited about cooking everything, he didn’t have the heart to tell him it was way too much food. “Yeah,” Red mumbled back, “I’m p-pretty hungry, I guess?”

“really?” Why did he sound surprised by that answer? Wasn’t that what he wanted to hear? “i guess you would be pretty hungry by now, huh? you didn’t eat the other day either,” He pondered aloud, “well, don’t worry. i can cook it faster.”

Red watched anxiously, with a bit of sweat on his brow, as Papyrus turned the sauce’s heat up to max, when it should probably be brought down to a simmer by now.

“we’ll get you food in no time!” Papyrus hummed happily, oblivious to the way the steam seemed to double. A foul hiss reaching out from the depths of the pot.

He was burning it, wasn’t he?

A concoction that was mostly water to boot.

Eventually, Red managed to tear his crimson eyes away from the ticking time bomb. Irises flicking nervously back up to Papyrus. A word of warning just behind his fangs. The taller was stirring the noodle pot above him calmly, a slight smile etched into his usually lax features. The hint of an excited sparkle in his eye. His expression was more genuine than all the lazy, halfhearted, or teasing smirks he’d seen on him so far. He seemed like he was actually having fun.

Well, fuck. He snapped his fangs shut. Now, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

Instead he waited anxiously at Papyrus’ side, watching the pot slowly begin to tremble when the boiling contents inside hit a peak. The quakes trembled through the container until it rattled atop the burner. The hiss now unignorably loud as it seeped past the lid.

Good. Papyrus would _have_ to address it now.

“ _fuck._ whoops,” Papyrus cussed, grabbing the nearest pot holder. “i forgot to stir this, too.”

–No, that wasn’t—

But Papyrus had already pulled off the lid, ready to stir the hiss into submission. It was probably the worst decision he could have made. All he had to do was turn the burner down, but now the boiling contents were unleashed. It was like removing the plug off a miniature volcano.

Boiling sauce bubbles popped and gurgled out the top, sending red sauce flying whenever a bubble exploded –which was _quite_ often. The contents of the pot, spewed out the top in short, brief explosions like fireworks launching out, celebrating their unexpected freedom.

Sauce went _everywhere._

On the counters. On the cabinets. On Papyrus –who then dropped the lid because it was no doubt _scalding_. The lid clamored to the ground noisily. “–shit.” Yet the sauce continued to spill out uncontained. Getting on the floor. On the stove. On Red–

–it was, in fact, fucking scalding—

The smaller dove down to grab the lid before Papyrus had to bend over for it because he’d said his back hurt. A rain of burning sauce falling down around him. Red snatched the hot lid, shoved Papyrus back protectively, slammed the container over the pot, and turned down the burner all in one quick movement.

The rowdy contents bubbled down to a simmer.

Red sighed a hiss past his fangs, spinning around to look up at Papyrus with a low glower. They were both splattered in tomato sauce. But Papyrus was grinning down at him _way_ too happily.

“hey, thanks!” He said, his smile still huge even now. One eye squinted closed. It almost looked like he was winking, except the eye was permanently shut. A stain of red over the bone.

Had he gotten that burning sauce in his socket?

Red let out an even more relenting sigh in complete surrender, glancing off to the side. Why was he like this? Boss was supposed to be more fearsome than this. Not bested by kitchenware.

“C-com’ere,” He growled deeply, motioning for Papyrus to bend down to his level. The taller squatted down curiously. Red grabbed the front of the larger’s hoodie, pulling him in closer. He shook his own sleeve down over his hand, spinning it until he could find a mostly sauce-free section. He used the cleanest side to rub the sauce away from his eye. The socket twitched a little under his sleeve. “Does it sting?” His gruff voice asked with a hint of concern.

“just a bit.”

“I’ll get ‘ya some water then, stay here,” He stepped away, climbing onto the nearby sauce splattered counter. Good. They kept the cups in the same cabinet he did, though none of these pristine cups looked anything like the shit he kept in his house. He grabbed the nearest glass, then hopped off the counter, filling it up halfway at the sink. The little skeleton carried it back to the injured monster who’d surprisingly stayed in the same spot he’d asked him to.

He timidly pulled Papyrus’ face back towards him, tilting his chin.

“Look here,” Red rumbled, causing the other to glance up. He carefully tipped the cup, splashing a bit of water into the socket.

“— _ag_ h!” Papyrus bit out with a wince.

Red stepped away from him quickly. A good, lengthy, _cautious_ step back. Putting enough distance between them to get a good head start running if he had to. He watched the other anxiously, gripping the cup of water in front of him as Papyrus blinked the socket, trying to get it to stay open. He rubbed a large fist against it until he finally opened the eye. Two stunningly tangerine irises flicked over towards him.

Papyrus smiled again, “much better. thanks, Red.”

Red quirked a shaky, nervous smile back. Still not sure what he was supposed to say to that, “o-of course?”

The door suddenly jingled as it opened behind him. “I’M BACK!” Blue’s booming voice sang into the house, shutting the door equally loudly behind him. He kicked off his boots next to the door, “ARE YOU TWO—”

He froze, mouth slightly agape, staring at the new paint-job done to the kitchen. A lovely freckled splatter of red centered solely around the stove. Tomato sauce always stained terribly. It was hell to clean.

Papyrus pushed himself back up to his feet, “welcome back, Sans.”

Blue was clearly having trouble tearing his gaze away from the monstrosity to the side as he slowly walked into the kitchen, speechless. “PAPY…” The smaller stated cautiously, “ARE YOU—ARE YOU _COOKING,_ PERHAPS _?”_

“yes,” Papyrus answered quickly. Then, glanced off briefly to the side as if considering if that was _truly_ the answer he wanted to go with right now under such incriminating evidence, “yes, i am.”

Blue’s big cerulean eyes slowly panned back over to his sauce-covered brother in silence. His perma-grin twisted into a strained squirm as he pressed a gloved fist against his teeth in restraint at the sight, a deep blue stain of color lighting his cheeks. It wasn’t long until he could contain his delight no further; “MWEH HEH HEH HEH _HEH_!”

The little skeleton cracked up laughing, bending over his stomach.

“OH MY GOODNESS–! YOU HAVEN’T DONE THIS IN FOREVER!” He peeked up, bursting into another fit of laughter, “OH STARS, YOU GOT IT ALL OVER RED, TOO. I’M SO SORRY! MWEH HEH HEH!” He chuckled. “OK,” He took a deep breath, trying to restrain himself. “Pfft—! OK, _OK_. GOOD TRY, BRO,” He snickered, patting his brother’s back condescendingly, but his compliment somehow seemed genuine anyway. “I’LL TAKE IT FROM HERE,” Blue insisted, ushering Papyrus away from the stove. He shooed them both out of the kitchen –or at least any part of it that they could wreak any more havoc to. “YOU TWO GO SIT DOWN AT THE TABLE. LET A PROFESSIONAL FINISH THIS UP.”

The stocky skeleton fetched his star-patched apron from the hook, throwing it over his shoulders. He fastened the back as he dragged his step-stool over to the stove by a foot. “SO WHAT WERE YOU MAKING?” He asked giddily as he hopped up to the burner’s height to peer into the contents.

“it’s spaghetti,” Papyrus answered, pulling out the chair at the far end of the table. He motioned for Red to take the seat.

Red obeyed instantly, taking the chair he offered. Then, he glanced back to his clone at the stove while Papyrus tucked him under the table. The smaller skeleton was bobbing happily over the stove as he tested the noodles. It didn’t take him long to figure out they’d been done for some time now. So, he removed the pot and strained out the spaghetti over in the sink, placing the finished noodles off to the side to cool.

Red was so distracted watching his clone’s unusual reaction, he didn’t even see it until the last second when a dish towel hit him upside the head. He pulled the cloth away from his face in alarm, half expecting a weapon instead as he glanced up towards the direction the harmless object flew in from. Papyrus was staring over at him. He motioned to the side of his head with a single finger.

Red cautiously rubbed the dish towel over the area, mimicking Papyrus’ hand. When he pulled back, there was sauce on the towel. Taking the hint, Red dabbed the cloth over his skull, cleaning up what mess he could while Papyrus swung into the middle seat backwards, leaning over the back of the chair. He rested his arms over the top.

“so, how’d it go at Undyne’s?” Papyrus pressed.

“YOU WERE RIGHT,” Blue sighed. “ALPHYS WOULDN’T LET ME SEE HER. I MEAN, MY BRILLIANT PLAN WASN’T A COMPLETE FAILURE! SHE SEEMED TEMPTED FOR A LITTLE BIT, BUT I GUESS SHE WON’T BETRAY UNDYNE. NOT EVEN FOR A TV SHOW SHE REALLY WANTS. ALPHYS IS TRULY AMAZING!”

“makes sense,” The taller hummed in contemplation. “Undyne is her main source of tv shows.”

“I COULDN’T EVEN GET IN THE DOOR. I DIDN’T EVEN GET TO TALK TO UNDYNE. ALPHYS MADE ME RUN LAPS WHEN I KEPT KNOCKING,” He pouted in disappointment.

“well, don’t feel too bad about it,” Papyrus smirked at him. “they’ve both always been stubborn. it’s okay. you tried your best. like i said; the idea wasn’t bad.”

“BUT IT’S NOT OKAY,” Blue grumbled back pitifully, “THIS IS IMPORTANT. WE NEED HER TO LISTEN. WE NEED HER TO _HELP_.”

“how about i give it another shot tomorrow. at least i can get inside whether they want me to or not.”

“PAPY!” His brother cried offended, “THAT’S ILLEGAL.”

“but it’s for a good cause?” He suggested with emphasis.

“IT’S STILL ILLEGAL,” Blue insisted, waving a scolding spatula in his direction. “PROMISE ME YOU WON’T BREAK INTO HER HOUSE. OR COMMIT ANY OTHER ASSOCIATED CRIMES.”

“alright, fine,” The taller sighed in mock defeat. Red had a feeling, from the reluctant tone alone, he’d get inside if he wanted to whether his brother approved or not.

Blue didn’t seem to notice, though.

“GOOD!” He chimed happily, dishing up a plate. “A VICTORY ISN’T A VICTORY IF IT’S WON UNFAIRLY.”

Well, that was just plain untrue. In fact; if you played fairly, you probably didn’t win all too often.

His clone sprinkled some cheese over the top of the dish, then hopped away from the counter. He handed the plate back towards his brother, who took it from him halfway with his long arms. Papyrus spun back around and set the plate in front of the quiet skeleton at the table.

“hungry?” Papyrus asked him, sliding the dish in front of Red.

Crimson eyes glanced down at the plate of overcooked noodles drenched in a near-liquid form of sauce placed in front of him.

Before Red could properly respond, Papyrus spun the fork around a helping of noodles as he set down the plate, hovering it just over the dish –right in front of Red’s teeth. “here. try a bite,” He insisted. Mimicking Blue from yesterday with a smirk; “say, ‘aaahh.’”

Red bristled instantly, backing up. Leaning away from the fork.

Was _that_ an order, too? Why did he give such stupid ones? Why would he even–? Red was going to eat Papyrus’ food either way! He’d watched him spend so much effort making it –even if it had turned out disastrously –there was no way Red would refuse it now. He didn’t have to force-feed him every damn bite.

“I-I-I can do it myself,” Red stuttered anxiously, yanking the fork from Papyrus’ grip towards his mouth stiffly. He tried not to look too afraid when their hands touched –but he still flinched. Ignoring that, he pulled both their hands, shoving the bite into his mouth as quickly as he could—before Papyrus had even had a chance to let go of the fork himself –so that the other couldn’t complain about Red’s ‘adjustment’ to the order as disobedience.

Papyrus quickly let him have the fork to himself.

The noodles were soggy and a bit cold. The sauce an odd mixture of too watery and too burnt. Really, it was more of a ‘tomato water’ than an actual sauce. But Red had eaten worse things before. He’d never been one to be picky about a meal –especially not a free one.

And this was made by _Papyrus_. When was the last time Papyrus made him something to eat? Had Boss ever really made him a meal? Surely, he recalled him cooking, but not so much _sharing_. Yet this Papyrus had made this food for him, specifically. He’d also burnt it for the same reason…

So, as Papyrus’ eyes watched his expression, Red didn’t dare hesitate to shovel a second bite into his mouth by himself without a single word of complaint. Not leaving any room for objection as fast as he was swallowing it down. If he ate it quickly, he could swallow a fair bit before Papyrus could change his mind or find some fault with his behavior halfway. Or take the meal away for some other unexplained grievance…

Papyrus was still leaning forward, face locked in mock surprise as he watched the small skeleton eat with gusto, “you weren’t kidding. you really must’ve been hungry.”

Well. Honestly, he hadn’t paid much attention to that gnawing empty pit in his stomach up until now. Maybe he actually _had_ been hungry, he admitted silently to himself as he shoved another bite sloppily into his face.

“what kind of table manners are those?” the other laughed, waving a skeletal finger playfully near his face towards the mess he was making.

Red slid his plate away from the tease as the hand approached, guarding his meal with an arm. He shoveled more spaghetti into his face so he didn’t have to come up with an answer to that dumb question, tilting the plate slightly as he did so he could pour some tomato water into his mouth along with the noodles. Not even leaving an ounce of space for breath or air, he glowered at the clone over his meal.

“i won’t take it from you,” Papyrus snickered back.

“HERE’S YOURS,” Blue said, setting a plate in front of his brother. Thankfully, forcing the taller to lean back in his seat away from the voracious eater. His doppelganger turned towards him, hands on hips. Red only heard his better half tut, “ _GOODNESS_ ,” in disapproval before his form disappeared behind the rim of the tipped plate, slurping in tow.

_Alarmingly_ a hand grabbed his shoulder. Suddenly, Red was physically separated from his food as Blue shoved the plate back down to the table, pulling them apart. Cautioning him with a stern command, “ _CHEW_ BETWEEN BITES, RED, OR YOU’RE GOING TO CHOKE.”

Red slurped up the rest of the noodles hanging out of his mouth slowly, leaving a mess of sauce across his face. Without breaking eye contact with those scolding cerulean orbs, he rubbed his sleeve across the back of his mouth –it wasn’t like he was going to get any _more_ sauce on his clothes. He paced the next bite –with the fork– a bit more reasonably, actually chewing this time.

“MUCH BETTER,” Blue nodded with a relieved smile, letting him go as he headed back to retrieve his own plate.

Only a third of Red’s plate was left to eat in any semblance of a proper manner anyway. He supposed he could slow down if it would prevent anyone from trying to interfere with his food again.

“SO, WHAT DID YOU TWO GET UP TO TODAY?” Blue asked, taking his seat on the opposite side of the table.

“oh, we just took it easy. sat at the post all day,” Papyrus hummed. “you didn’t miss anything eventful.”

Blue’s big eyes glanced briefly off to the side, “BUT DIDN’T YOU TWO EXPLODE THE STOVE? WAS THAT NOT EVENTFUL?”

Papyrus leaned back in his chair, glancing at the mess, then turned back to his brother with a growing smirk, “i guess you _did_ miss Red save the day! he sprung to life to stop the great sauce explosion,” he said, waving his hand mystifyingly in the air.

That description sounded way more eventful than turning down a burner actually was.

“REALLY? WOW! GOOD JOB!” Blue praised, entertained all the same.

“but, other than that, we pretty much sat on our butts outside all day,” the taller shrugged, voice lackadaisical once again.

“HOW WAS THE TEMPURATURE? WAS RED OKAY –I MEAN,” He corrected, turning towards the person himself to speak, “WERE _YOU_ OKAY OUT IN THE COLD, RED?”

Red nibbled on his fork as he finished his latest bite, trying to keep his head down. But when his crimson eyes flicked up across the table. Those two big eyes were still staring at him. Blue certainly wanted something from him.

Oh, _right._ They were talking—They were _including_ him?– He wanted an answer. It wasn’t like it was hard to figure out what response he wanted.

After that lengthy delay, Red slowly nodded his head, unable to make eye contact. Then, quickly sped up the nod in affirmation.

Perhaps because of the long hesitation or silence in the answer, Blue’s eyes glanced over to his brother questioningly.

“we were fine,” Papyrus confirmed. “he didn’t shiver or anything if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Blue perked up at that news, spinning his excitable attention back towards Red –who shrunk under the scrutiny as his clone leaned across the table eagerly. “SO THEN; THE COAT WORKED! BUT PAPY GOT IT ALL DIRTY AGAIN, DIDN’T HE? I CAN FIX THAT UP FOR YOU IF YOU WANT –CONSIDER IT THANKS FOR SAVING THE KITCHEN! THEN, YOU CAN USE IT AGAIN TOMORROW TO KEEP WARM, TOO!”

Once again, he wanted an answer from him. Red nodded his head in agreement, sinking into his seat. Still chewing nervously on the fork. Why was he talking to him again? He realized he didn’t _actually_ save the kitchen like in Papyrus’ exaggeration, right? This place was a mess.

“GREAT!” His doppelganger cheered in that grating volume of his. “I CAN TAKE IT OUT IN THE WASH WITH THE OTHER STUFF TONIGHT!” He planned giddily, “I MEAN I’LL HAVE TO _WASH_ IT SEPARATELY SO I DON’T SPREAD THE SAUCE, BUT THAT’S PERFECTLY OK! THE MAGNIFICENT SANS CAN HANDLE ANY STAIN!” ‘The Magnificent Sans’ seemed to cover quite a few titles from savior to professional maid. Red was starting to wonder if it had any true meaning or if it was just as pointless as it sounded. Blue glanced over at his brother again, barely holding in a little, mocking _pfft!_ As he grinned wide at the taller’s filthy appearance once more. Adding snidely, “I CAN TAKE _YOUR_ STUFF, TOO, PAPY.”

Well, wasn’t he cheeky? Red ground the fork nervously between his fangs more, watching the exchange. Was his clone this insolent because _this_ Papyrus always let him get away with it?

Not that Red had ever been the pinnacle of obedience himself…

Papyrus caught Red’s deepening glower along with his growing discomfort. With an empathetic smirk thrown his way, he turned back towards his brother, taking over the conversation. “thanks, Sans,” Papyrus offered on their behalf. “you’re a life-safer. that’d be great. sorry about all the mess.”

Definitely not the reaction he’d expected Papyrus to give to clear mockery. He’d even apologized… Boy, was this Sans spoiled.

Red was clearly out of his element.

He figured it was best to go back to his food, before he said or did something he –or Papyrus- would regret. He didn’t know how to handle someone as excitable as Blue. But saying anything less than completely supportive seemed like it’d tick Papyrus off. Red shoveled some food back into his mouth. At least comfortable with the knowledge all the eyes in the room were no longer trained on him.

“DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT. IT’S ALRIGHT. YOU NEVER HAVE BEEN ANY GOOD IN THE KITCHEN,” Blue giggled.

Red winced at the near insult, but, _again,_ Papyrus didn’t seem to care. Was that his doting side again or did he _really_ not care that his excellence had been called into question?

 “I’M SURPRISED YOU EVEN TRIED! I MEAN, IF YOU _WANT_ TO LEARN HOW TO COOK, I COULD GIVE YOU SOME POINTERS SOMETIME?” His clone asked like it was completely normal to offer his brother corrections.

Papyrus glanced back at the exploded sauce. “i appreciate the offer, but i’m thinking, maybe, i’ll stay out of the kitchen for a little while?” He suggested reasonably. “you know. to protect the house from certain doom and all.”

“OH! OH!” Blue said excitedly, still not giving up on the idea, “I COULD ASK ALPHYS TO LET YOU JOIN US NEXT TIME?”

“i’m gonna have to pass on that, too,” Papyrus looked conflicted, “i think it was more of a one-time deal.”

“OKAY,” Blue sighed out, finally defeated, “BUT IF YOU’RE EVER FEELING UP TO TRYING IT AGAIN –LET ME KNOW! I’LL HELP SET EVERYTHING UP FOR YOU!”

“alright,” Papyrus grinned into his drink. “sure. why not?” He said in such a noncommittal manner Red was positive he’d never ask.

Even though he had seemed like he was having so much fun with it before…

 “Do ‘ya–” And both pairs of eyes snapped to him again. Red swallowed guiltily for interrupting them. The words had just sort of slipped out. He scolded himself for pulling their attention back his way. “S-s-sorry,” He mumbled out. “Nevermind.”

“no. it’s okay. do i what? you can ask,” Papyrus encouraged, putting down his own fork to listen as he leaned into a hand. Attention fully on the meddler now.

That made him more nervous. But if Papyrus was _waiting_ on him he had to continue.

“D-do ‘ya not _usually_ cook?” He mumbled to him. Papyrus had seemed like he’d known that recipe. Certainly, he’d gotten some points wrong, but not like a complete amateur. He hadn’t even followed a written version. He’d pulled all those ingredients straight from his memory. It _seemed_ like a recipe he was familiar with at the very least. Coupled with the fact that he seemed to be enjoying himself, it certainly felt like it should be a hobby.

 “no. usually i don’t even bother,” Papyrus admitted with a facetious laugh.

Red’s expression twitched, eyes on his plate.

“Maybe ‘ya sh-should learn then,” He growled bitterly into his next bite, not quite sure why that answer irked him so damn much. The brief flash of irritation he felt was completely unreasonable.

Both brothers exchanged a look over the table. Red suddenly realized, out of context, he sounded completely ungrateful for the food he’d been given, but that wasn’t what he meant. He didn’t care if the meal was bad or good. What mattered was that _Papyrus_ had cooked it. He just thought that Papyrus should be cooking—“O-o-or else ‘yer j-just gonna sit around an’ _starve,_ ‘ya know?” He mumbled out the correction weakly.

Papyrus looked absolutely stricken. It was clearly the wrong thing to say.

The food on Red’s fork slipped off as he stared back completely speechless, too, regretting every damn word that had just slipped past his big fat mouth. Why had he said that out loud? After he was _just_ getting upset at Blue for being an insolent prick, too! Telling Papyrus to get his act together and learn to cook then imply he had nothing better to do was _way_ fucking worse than anything Blue had said –and he didn’t exactly have that doting relationship to shield him either!

“OH, THERE’S NO CONCERN THERE. HE DOESN’T STARVE,” Blue corrected, eyes dragging away from his suddenly silent brother to Red. Trying to save the train wreck of a conversation with a perky edge. Possibly because he was too oblivious to realize the conversation had already crashed. “I USUALLY FEED HIM. I CAN CONFIRM HE GETS AT LEAST TWO MEALS A DAY,” His clone admitted proudly. Prompting, “PLUS, HE GOES TO MUFFET’S A LOT. RIGHT, PAPY?”

“yeah,” Papyrus blinked as if snapping himself out of a shocked trance, pulling his gaze away from Red back to his brother. Answering stiffly, “yeah, i go to Muffet’s quite a bit.”

“ALL THAT SUGAR IS NOT GOOD FOR YOU, THOUGH,” Blue scolded.

“ _Muffet_ ’s cooking is always good for me,” Papyrus shot teasingly back with a full recovery, a slight bit of reverence masked into the name. “plus there’s always extra food in the house if i need it. so,” He turned back to Red with a soft smile, “it’s okay, i don’t starve.”

Slowly jumpstarting his brain, Red shook his head, waving a hand furiously in front of his face to dismiss the notion. “N-n—no. S-sorry. I—I-I didn’t mean t-that! I d-didn’t mean ’ta imply—” Why the hell would he think Papyrus would starve? Not being able to cook didn’t mean he starved. He clearly had access to plenty of food. “I d-don’t know what I was thinkin’,” He stuttered pitifully, crimson eyes cast down as he pushed himself away from the table, frantically looking for a way to dismiss himself. “Sorry. M–m-maybe I should just—”

“no, d—”

“NO, DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT!” Blue interrupted as both brothers jumped up at the exact same time to placate him. Both of their chairs clattering back before Red even made it halfway out of his. The noise alone had Red flinching still in the spot. “WHAT AN EXCELLENT DEDUCTION, TOO. YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY CORRECT. PAPY _SHOULD_ LEARN HOW TO COOK,” The eccentric one added slyly with a sidelong glance at the taller.

Papyrus’ head whipped back at Blue who stuck a childish cyan-colored tongue out at his brother.

He stared back in silence for a moment, then squished the smaller’s face between two larger palms, pushing his chubby cheeks together. Blue squirmed a bit, but didn’t pull away from his hold.

Red took the distraction as an opportunity to ease cautiously out of his chair. He’d rather not leave his food behind, but the sudden burst of activity at the table had him second-guessing staying there. If this was finally going to turn into a fight, he didn’t want to be here to witness it. Fearing Papyrus had finally hit his limit, he took a cautious step back and wanted to cuss when his foot hit the chair’s leg, causing a noisy _screech_ across the floor.

Both sets of eyes flicked back towards him, frozen in the middle of whatever they were doing.

Red bumbled out an excuse as he tried to step away, “I—I t-think I just r-ruined the mood. S–s-so, uhm—”

“WHAT? NO, NO. DON’T LEAVE. THIS IS FANTASTIC,” Blue insisted, pulling Papyrus’ hands easily away from his face. “ _TODAY_ IS FANTASTIC! THIS IS THE MOST ANIMATED I’VE EVER SEEN YOU, RED! YOU SLEPT, YOU MOVED, YOU TALKED, YOU ATE –YOU HAVEN’T RUINED ANYTHING. IN FACT, TODAY IS PERFECT! IT COULDN’T HAVE GONE ANY BETTER BECAUSE _YOU’RE_ BETTER!”

Papyrus blinked back at his brother. “hey… that gives me a great idea,” A slow grin quirked up the side of his mouth. “Sans you’re an absolute genius!” He gushed, squeezing the smaller’s head once more before finally letting go. “Red, come here,” He beckoned excitedly, standing up from his chair.

‘ _Come here,’_ again. That same damn order. Red frowned, but took a careful step closer, fists curled into the hem of his coat.

He wasn’t getting punished now, was he?

Papyrus dug around in his hoodie pocket, then knelt down next to Red, stretching his hand behind the smaller form to rest against the other’s chair. Red watched it nervously. The motion clearly boxed him in, stuck between the arm, the chair, the table, and Papyrus. He stood rooted stiffly to the spot, trying to avoid touching any of them. Debating if he should just run.

“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?” Blue asked curiously, leaning over the table.

“ _obviously_ we need to commemorate this occasion,” Papyrus stated almost giddily. Calling, “hey, Red, look back over here.”

Red pulled his anxious gaze from the suspiciously placed arm to look back the other way. Following Papyrus’ other arm outstretched in front of them up to a small box-shaped phone. The screen reflecting both of their faces back.

With a click, the image froze. Locking Papyrus’ grin and Red’s glowering, nervous confusion onto their faces permanently.

Papyrus pulled his arm in, so he could view the picture more closely. “no, this won’t work. you have to smile, Red,” He corrected softly with a short laugh. His voice reverberating awfully close to Red’s skull as the smaller refused to look directly over at him. Papyrus reset the camera, holding his arm up again. “look up,” He insisted, leaning slightly in towards him. Narrowing that small space Red had to himself even more. “smile~,” Papyrus instructed.

Leaning a margin away from him, Red flicked his crimson eyes back up to the screen, obeying the order he let a shaky smile spread across his face. The image froze, but the camera reset, returning their reflection again in short order, mimicking their movements once more.

“ _wider_ ,” Papyrus prompted, ducking even lower so their faces were right next to each other.

Red tried to force a bigger grin across his fangs, eyes glancing nervously between the phone and Papyrus who seemed to be slinking in closer all the time.

“ _pfft_!” Papyrus held back a snicker, his smile was enormous. He took the photo, failing to catch Red’s eyes when they were on the screen.

“DID YOU GET IT?” Blue asked curiously, unable to see from his angle. Red squirmed uncomfortably at their proximity.

“wait, one more. a video,” Papyrus grinned, catching Red before he could shuffle too far away by using the arm that had been on the chair to hold the phone as well. Thus reducing his space even more. Papyrus shuffled behind him, both arms stretched out in front of the smaller from either side. Red was completely pinned in. His captor angled the screen down until it reflected back the stiff and unmoving skeleton between his arms, “Say, ‘hi, Undyne! i’m feeling better.’”

“’H-hi, Undyne, I’m f-feelin’ better’…” Red repeated nervously in his gruff voice, glancing apprehensively between the two arms. Hoping that if he played along that narrow space wouldn’t get any smaller.

“now smile,” Pap whispered.

The box watched Red try to force yet another uncomfortable smile across his fangs. It wasn’t very convincing.

Papyrus stuck his head over Red’s shoulder, so he was in the center of the shot instead. A gesture that caused the smaller to bristle in alarm. “can you talk to us?” He asked the screen, stating, “see? he’s doing fine now,” He leaned away as he poked at one of Red’s cheeks.

“-the _hell_?” Red spat out, dodging away from the hand in alarm. Unfortunately the motion just leaned him into the opposite arm. He scrambled to correct the contact by jerking the opposite way.

“LANGUAGE!” Blue gasped from off to the side. Scolding, “RED, YOU SHOULDN’T CUSS. IT’S SUPER BAD!”

The video cut off as Red shot a glower off to the side of the screen in response.

What did he mean he wasn’t supposed to cuss?

“ah, let’s cut him a break this once. it’s my bad. i did startle him,” Papyrus added smoothly, unwinding his arms away from the smaller as he stood up. Red sighed a breath of relief at being released before glancing back up at the taller. He was grinning down at his phone as he flicked through the recent additions.

Blue hopped off his chair running over to Papyrus’ side. His brother naturally bent down and tilted the screen so he could see, too. “SO, YOU’RE GOING TO SEND THESE OVER TO UNDYNE?”

“yup. that’s the plan,” Papyrus responded lethargically, standing back up. A smooth smile plastered across his teeth as he clicked away at the phone. “if she sees Red’s doing better, maybe she’ll be more responsive. since seeing him before seemed to scare her off. and, ‘hey, Undyne, i brought that melting guy to your front door,’ probably wouldn’t blow over so well.”

“DON’T FORGET TO SAY ‘PLEASE’!” Blue corrected.

“alright, alright,” Papyrus hummed, typing in the requested clicks. “and send.”

“MWEH HEH. YOU TWO ARE COVERED IN SAUCE IN THAT PHOTO. SHE’LL PROBABLY ASK WHAT HAPPENED.”

“well, that’s a good thing. making her curious might just get her to respond faster,” Papyrus stated naturally, tucking the phone back into his pocket.

“WAIT! YOU DIDN’T SHOW RED!” Blue cried offended on his behalf. The taller pulled the phone back out of his pocket in the same motion, extending the screen out towards Red. Red just had to see a glimpse of his cracked skull and shitty expression before he held out his own hands to cover the image in disgust.

“T—t-that’s fine. I don’t n-need ‘ta see.”

Papyrus shrugged, putting his phone away. Blue turned his curious attention back towards his brother, “HOW LONG DO YOU THINK UNTIL SHE RESPONDS?”

“dunno, but let’s give her some time to actually see it first,” Papyrus snickered at his impatience. “hopefully sooner than later. we’ll have to waste time until then.”

“I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT TO DO! RED, COME WITH ME,” Blue skipped a step over to Red steering him out of the kitchen by his shoulders. Papyrus followed curiously behind the two. “YOU’RE DOING SO WELL TODAY. GOSH, I’M SO GLAD YOU’RE UP AND ABOUT. SORRY, I COULDN’T SPEND MORE TIME WITH YOU.”

“I—” What was he supposed to say to that? Was he even supposed to say something to that? That gentle touch leading his shoulder just made him feel uncomfortable.

“HOPEFULLY, PAPY TOOK GOOD CARE OF YOU IN MY ABSENCE,” Blue said confidently, in a tone that suggested that there was _no way_ Papyrus could be a proper substitute for him. “I KNOW IT’S HIS FAULT YOU GOT ALL DIRTY, BUT WE CAN TAKE CARE OF THAT RIGHT NOW. NO PROBLEM,” He insisted, steering him through the living room. “AT LEAST PAPY KEPT YOU ENTERTAINED TODAY, RIGHT? YOU HAD FUN WITH HIM, MAYBE?”

Everything about this question sounded like a trap to get him in trouble. Papyrus hadn’t just stuck around to _entertain_ him –he’d been working. He’d been watching him? He’d been _something_ more important that didn’t involve being his personal entertainment, right? He glanced nervously back at Papyrus, who raised a brow when their eyes met. Yet said nothing to deny the accusation.

Red spun back around flustered, staring at his feet. Opting for silence to avoid the deceptive questions.

“WAS HE THAT BAD?” Blue questioned his silence, spinning back on his brother, “PAPY! WHAT ELSE DID YOU DO TO HIM?”

“i didn’t do anything,” Still following, Papyrus chuckled lightly, lifting his hands in surrender. “i swear.”

“WELL, DON’T YOU WORRY ABOUT A THING. THE MAGNIFICENT SANS IS NOW BACK HERE TO ASSIST YOU IN WHATEVER WAY YOU NEED,” Blue announced. Red watched his feet come up to a stop before the somewhat hidden door beneath the cabin stairs, which Blue opened for him. “WE’LL START BY CLEANING UP PAPY’S MESS.”

 “hey.” Papyrus grunted offended.

Blue snickered at his reaction, completely fearless of any retaliation. “MWEH HEH! I’M _KIDDING_. PAPY, YOU DID GOOD. BUT _I’LL_ TAKE IT FROM HERE. SO, SHOO! GET OUT OF HERE. NO TALL PEOPLE ALLOWED IN THE BATHROOM RIGHT NOW!” His double declared, pushing a confused and unresponsive Red forward into the cabin’s only bathroom while he crowed in behind him.

Red’s mind was still trying to catch up, clicking together all his alternate’s words. He wasn’t—His double wasn’t going to _wash_ him, was he? Like in the _nude_ …?

That unnervingly gentle hand pressed him forward.

“I’M SURE YOU’VE BEEN WANTING A BATH, RIGHT?” Blue asked sweetly, immediately putting his fears to reality. “I MEAN, YOU FELL IN THE MUD AND THEN YOU WERE FALLING APART, AND THEN YOU SLEPT IN _PAPY’S_ SHEETS.” Somehow, he said the last part like that was the most disgusting on the list. “NOW THE SAUCE? I BET YOU’RE DYING FOR A BATH, RIGHT?” He _asked,_ but shoved him forward as if he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

Was this happening? Was his alternate really going to strip him down?

Technically, they were the same person, right? No big deal if he saw him naked… right?

No, definitely not.

He was _certain_ he didn’t look anything like this fluffball did naked. Could he even show someone so obliviously innocent even half of his scars? It seemed like it would be classified as some kind of crime. He’d rather not to show them to anyone, not even someone who was technically himself. It wouldn’t be anything like looking in a mirror. He certainly didn’t want to have to _explain_ any of them to this precious spoiled version of him either!

_Especially not the ones by the crotch._

Head sinking lower the further he thought, Red spun abruptly and turned Sans around.

“EH?” The blue one vocalized as he was suddenly faced the opposite direction. Almost surprised Red had even moved after all his time spent not responding to him.

Not saying a word nor offering an ounce of explanation, Red shoved him by his back until he’d forced him all the way back out the door. Startling Papyrus on the other side. Sans stumbled out of the bathroom, turning to look bewildered behind him. Red stood, flushed with embarrassment, in the doorway. Not looking at either of them, he took a step back and slammed the door closed.

_BAM!_

“EHHH?? WHY?!” The blue one’s protest could be heard even past the doorway.

“ _kkuuu_ –nyeh heh heh heh HEH HEH HEH!” Papyrus burst into laughter. “i think that translates to, ‘i can do it myself.’”

“RED, WAIT!” The blue one called banging on the door, “DO YOU KNOW HOW TO WORK EVERYTHING?”

Red sunk slowly against the other side of the door, flushed like a tomato.

When the taller finally finished laughing, Red heard his much softer voice mumble through the door, “aw, don’t make a face like that. he’ll figure it out. let’s leave him alone for now.”

“OKAY…” Blue agreed almost dejectedly. Red thought he heard the creak of floorboards as they started to walk away, so he damn near jumped out of his bones when something slammed against the door again.

“WASH EVERYWHERE, OKAY, RED?” The other pestered.

Red didn’t give him a response.

He listened tensely on the other side of the door, until he heard the other’s retreat with creaky floorboards and muffled voices. Red finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Fuck. That was close. His double was really going to do it, too, wasn’t he? He’d better actually do it himself, then, if he didn’t want Blue to try and get him naked and alone in a room again.

He looked down at himself, sprawled next to the door like a barricade. There was sauce all over his clothes –mostly dried by now. The crusty red was even wedged into many of the cracks and nicks on his leg. He guessed he _was_ pretty damn dirty. It had been a while since he’d taken a proper bath even in his own universe, too. Tentatively, he lifted an arm, taking a whiff. He reeled back.

Ok. Maybe he was pretty _foul_. A bath wouldn’t hurt.

He picked himself up against the door. After throwing several nervous glances back at it until he’d convinced himself it would remain closed. He stripped his coat off. It felt pretty weird to be taking his clothes off in a house that wasn’t technically his, but at least the bathroom vaguely resembled his own enough to feel somewhat comfortable with the act. He dropped the coat to the floor, then turned on the water. He held one hand under the stream as he adjusted the temperature while the splash of water slowly filled up the tub. Then, he yanked off his shirt and shorts as well. The shorts took a little extra work to be removed. For a second, he even feared he’d have to cut it off like the gauze. But with enough force, they finally slipped off, falling to his ankles. Red stepped out of them.

The tub was still filling up behind him, so he looked himself over in the mirror. He still had his dozens of scars, but in the areas that hadn’t been covered by his clothes, Blue had taped many different bandages to him. A score of them littered his skull, forearms, and lower legs. Most of which were unnecessary. So, Red started to peel them all off. When he was done, he’d only left the gauze holding his forearm together, plus a single bandage on his cheek. Which, when he’d started to pull it off, actually had the smallest flecks of red on the pad, so he’d smoothed it back down. He didn’t remember hurting his face, but he _had_ fallen face-first into the stone when he’d arrived. It couldn’t hurt to be safe.

Several dozen littered bandages later, the tub was finished filling. So, Red climbed in, easing his bones down into the steamy water.

Fuck, it felt nice.

He almost closed his eyes, but he didn’t want to be caught naked, so he willed himself to stay awake. Idly enjoying the water until he finally decided to do something about bathing. He grabbed the soap and began lathering it over his bones. When he got to his ribcage, he froze. His bottom most right rib was still missing, snapped off and taken by the void hands. He carefully rubbed soap over the injury. He supposed it looked a lot worse than it felt now.

But as he worked his hands up, his eyes couldn’t help falling on the remains of his soul. What was left of the greyed heart fluttered dimly in his chest. But there was a hint of a crimson light still shining within its depths, brighter between the cracks than the solid spaces. The jagged edges of the shattered side caught the light in just the right way to make the break prominent. He sighed. It really did look brutal. It matched the rest of him pretty decently now.

What was he going to do about that? He didn’t even know what it meant.

A knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts, causing him to dip low in the water for safety.

“hey, Red?” A lethargic voice called past the door. “sorry to bother you, bud. can i grab your clothes? Sans was going to take the laundry now and he needs your things.”

“N-No!” Red shouted before he truly processed the thought.

“no?”

“I –I mean,” Red stammered all over his words, how could he refuse Boss? “I-I’ll get it for ‘ya. You j–just stay there.”

Quickly, before Papyrus got impatient, Red climbed out of the water. He snatched his discarded garments from the floor, rushing to the door before the other decided to enter. Red pressed himself close to the back of the door, so he couldn’t be seen, then carefully popped it open a margin.

He jumped when a long arm reached in the crevice.

“i’ll trade ‘ya,” Papyrus offered, waving the outfit in his hand temptingly.

Red hesitated. “O-ok,” He muttered, cautiously retrieving the clean clothes. He placed the dirty ones in the large hand in exchange. Papyrus’ hand disappeared back out the crevice at a leisurely pace. Red pushed the door closed almost too quickly afterwards.

“thank you,” The lazy droll answered from beyond the wall. “take your time in there, alright?”

“Got it,” Red mumbled, embarrassed to be talking to someone while he stood there naked.

It was cold.

Careful not to slip on the puddles he’d left, he dumped the new clothes in the dry sink quickly, eager to climb back into the steamy water. The warmth flooded his bones. Red sighed in relief, both for the heat and to have something covering his bones in the case of an intrusion. But after the interruption he didn’t feel nearly as relaxed.

Red quickly finished scrubbing his bones clean. Perhaps finishing up the bath earlier than he would’ve liked.

He drained the water, climbed out, dried his bones, and, then, used that same towel to soak up the puddles left on the floor. Better to avoid a potential scolding before it happened. When he was done, he went back to the sink, lifting up the shirt on the top of the pile. It was a silky dark blue button up that appeared to be a decent size for him. No doubt another offering from the other Sans’ closet.

He slipped it over his head without undoing the buttons. Adding the matching pants as well. The bottom of which crumpled over his feet. He frowned at the extra fabric with a hint of resentment. He hoped that didn’t mean the other Sans was taller than him –They’d certainly looked the exact same height earlier. Either way, the complete outfit certainly wasn’t something he’d ever wear outside. The clothes were likely, exclusively, pajamas.

He looked at it a bit distastefully. It wasn’t practical. At least, it covered all the scars on both his legs and arms fully. Somehow feeling a bit timid in the borrowed clothes, he clacked open the bathroom door quietly, silently sticking his head out to look both ways before he dared shuffle out.

“done already?” Papyrus asked from the couch. He was lazing over the back of the sofa. Red almost hadn’t spotted him because he was missing his signature orange hoodie. Instead, he’d stripped it off, wearing nothing but a black tank and shorts instead. A towel folded across his lap. He picked his head up when Red peeked out.

“Y-yeah, uhm,” He glanced around, “Where’s th-the other one?”

“Sans?” he asked with a raised brow, “you just missed him. he headed out with the laundry a few minutes ago. so, that means it’s my turn,” Papyrus pushed himself up to his feet. As that towering height approached, Red’s eyelights ran the length of his bare arms multiple times, but his eyes hadn’t failed him. There wasn’t a scratch on them. The bones were spotlessly white, clean, and unscarred.

They were perfect.

Blue hadn’t been kidding about that one hit point thing. But how the hell was this Papyrus so spotless? Was it because of the healing magic? Yet his mind couldn’t help but wander back to his doppelganger’s stern warning. Or maybe it was Blue’s efforts that had kept his brother unmarked? Or perhaps, _Papyrus_ was stronger than he appeared.

It took Red entirely too long to realize he needed to shuffle out of the doorway for the other. But when the realization finally hit, he scampered out of the way quickly.

Papyrus looked uncomfortable at his skittish motion. “you didn’t need him for anything, did you?”

No. Just trying to keep tabs on everyone’s location so he wouldn’t be unexpectedly caught off-guard. But that wasn’t the answer Papyrus wanted. “I was g-gonna thank ‘im ‘fer the clothes…?”

The uncertainty in the statement must’ve seeped through.

“he’d like that, you know,” The taller smiled softly at him. “he’ll be back soon. so, make sure you thank him when he gets back.”

“G-got it,” He nodded to the order, avoiding his gaze.

“are the clothes comfy?”

He supposed they were. He shook his head affirmatively.

“great. glad the clothes fit you. well, i’ll be in here if you need me,” Papyrus said, pointing into the small bathroom, “so just knock if you have any trouble.”

Trouble with what?

But Papyrus closed the bathroom door before leaving him with any instructions on what he was supposed to be doing. Once again, he was left alone, unattended, and completely directionless. Red spun around, staring out at the large, empty house with a frown. Yet he could hear the water pouring into the tub behind the bathroom door.

Like some sort of timer.

What was he supposed to do that he might have trouble with?

He tried to rack his brain.

The only thing he could think of was…

_The_ _kitchen_.

Red practically sprinted to the kitchen archway, peering in at the red-splattered mess. That _had_ to be it! He folded up his sleeves, looking nervously back at the bathroom door. He hoped he didn’t want this done by the time he was done with his bath. This would take a bit longer than that, but he’d do what he _could_.

No, no. That train of thought would certainly get him in trouble. Was he trying to get abandoned again? He needed to do this quick.

He shuffled around in the counters until he found the baking soda. Then, tossed that out onto the counter. He continued to dig around until he found a hefty bottle of vinegar to join it. Once he had them both, Red set to work sprinkling out the baking soda over all the left over sauce stains on the stove, the counters, and the floor. When he covered it all, he folded paper towels over the stains. He used the entire roll for the enormous size of the mess. Then, he poured vinegar over the whole area, dampening the towels. He let them sit.

That would cover the flat surfaces, but the cabinets…

Red dug around in the drawers, but a quick search didn’t turn up any cleaning supplies. He didn’t want to waste time hunting through the whole house for them. So, he grabbed a rag, dampened it, and scrubbed down the front of the counters the old-fashioned way –with as much elbow grease as he could put into it. It was unexpectedly a workout. It _really_ took the wind out of him. He didn’t like how little strength he managed to put into each scrub either, but eventually, with enough effort and time, he picked off the crusting dribbles of sauce running down all the cabinet counters within the splash zone until they were as spotless as Papyrus’ goddamn arms.

By then, the towels had set long enough, so Red wiped the surfaces down as he removed the dampened towels. The trick cleared out the mess easily. When he was done; the whole place smelled awful, but it was an effective way to clean tough stains.

He’d better get the hell out of the kitchen before he got blamed for the lingering stench. If he just sat around in the living room, he’d be asking for a scolding. It’d be better to avoid the main floor for a while. He was already in pajamas, so he should probably just go to bed.

Tired and weary from the surprising workout, Red hobbled up the stairs, retreating to the safety of his bedroom until the morning. The little skeleton flopped down on the mattress. The softness felt great beneath his bones. He rolled over, curling sloppily into the blanket.

He’d only been lying on his bed for about ten minutes when the door swung open, bleeding a trail of light into the darkness of the room. Red’s eyes jolted open just as quickly, his crimson irises staring back in shock from the darkness.

Papyrus was standing in the doorway.

Oh, fuck. He’d hunted him down. That meant he’d really fucked up. Was he that mad about the vinegar smell in the kitchen? But he’d done a pretty good job wiping away all the splatters. A tense, seeping dread started to rise into the stiffness of his bones.

“see? found him,” the taller’s lethargic voice stated triumphantly. He folded his arms, leaning idly against the doorframe, looking in at the little skeleton curled up on the bed. A small smirk creeping up the side of his teeth.

Blue’s figure appeared in doorway behind him, arms full of bedding. “WHAT?” He demanded almost offended, “HE’S IN _YOUR_ BED?”

Red jolted upright immediately at the phrase. Suddenly remembering this was _Papyrus’_ bed. Not _his._

“BUT I CLEANED ALL THE SHEETS,” His alternate whined. “I THOUGHT HE WAS GOING TO USE MINE, SO YOU COULD—”

“oh, i don’t mind if he wants to sleep here,” Papyrus hummed, that once hint of a smirk now a full blown grin. He was completely amused. Yet he shrugged lackadaisically against the doorframe as if it didn’t matter, “looks like he’s already made himself at home, anyway.”

Red jumped out of the mattress instantly. A rather extreme, yet necessary, reaction.

Papyrus stifled a laugh. “i was just kidding. you can lay back down.”

“N—n–n-no. N-no. I’m sorry. I–I didn’t know w–which one ‘ta—” Actually, he hadn’t even thought about it. He’d just taken over Papyrus’ bed for a second night like it was nothing. Without even considering the complaints he’d given about his back earlier. The thick tobacco smell should have been a dead giveaway that this wasn’t his room.

What an idiot he was. He wasn’t trying to take Papyrus’ things. He was just stupid. His poor excuse fumbled just as pitifully from his mouth, eyes huge, “I–I didn’t m-mean ‘ta—”

Papyrus looked surprised _and_ worried simultaneously. Unfolding his arms, he stepped forward, hands up disarmingly.

Red stepped back.

“hey. it’s no big deal. it was just a tease,” He joked with a wayward smile. “i was _bedding_ on you to laugh.”

The small skeleton jolted still at the unexpected pun. It had taken him off-guard. That mounting panic took a steep dip, too, replaced with a rising confusion. Puns from Papyrus’ mouth were just so bizarre it had that sort of effect. Yet that wasn’t the first time he’d heard this Papyrus tell a joke, either. In fact, he seemed to do it quite often.

He… seemed rather fond of them.

Blue, however, scowled at his brother’s jest, “UGH. YOU CAN IGNORE PAPY, RED,” He insisted with an eyeroll, “HE CAN’T HELP HIMSELF. YOU’D LIKE TO USE A CLEAN BED TONIGHT, RIGHT? YOU AND ME CAN SHARE! COME ON,” He beckoned in a friendly tone. “FOLLOW ME!”

At least it was a clear, direct order.

Red dipped his head apologetically to Papyrus as he shuffled in a wide circle around the taller until he could squeeze past him through the door. He hobbled off down the hall after his alternate who was somehow leading the way, while being completely blinded by the overflowing bedding in his arms.

Papyrus swung lazily out the door behind him. Instead of following in a line, he skipped a large step forward to pace himself next to Red’s side. “sorry, Red. i didn’t mean to interrupt your rest –i didn’t think you’d get up. i thought you’d be passed out by now, actually. you weren’t already asleep were you?”

“N-no. ‘Course not.” Not that he’d have to apologize for reclaiming his bed even if he _had_ been asleep. “J –just got in there, anyway.”

“right,” Papyrus hummed in contemplation, “because you cleaned up the kitchen, right?”

Red nodded timidly, “Y–y-yeah.”

 “THAT WAS YOU?!” The leader exclaimed. Continuing, “I GUESS IT WOULDN’T BE PAPY, HUH? WOWIE. THANKS SO MUCH FOR CLEANING UP, RED. YOU DID A GREAT JOB!”

“—right. nice, but you weren’t even standing well this afternoon. are you worn out now? did you push yourself too hard?”

“—’m fine,” Red grumbled quietly.

“yet you’re wobbling again,” Papyrus noted.

“I just got up.” Stop noticing every little damn detail. Red tried to speed up away from him, entering the door to the larger bedroom behind Blue.

 “Red, wait. stop,” Papyrus insisted before he’d made it through the doorway.

Red obeyed the command. Freezing in place. He’d hadn’t even made it the distance past the open door. Papyrus cleared inside next to him, crouching his enormous height down in front of the smaller who backed into the open door until he could go back no more. Papyrus was squatting directly in front of him, fixing him with a solid gaze. “do you remember what i said before? about taking it easy right now?”

Red nodded his head vigorously even though he didn’t recall that conversation whatsoever. It’d be easier to agree now and figure out the specifics later.

“do you now?” He asked unconvinced, raising a skeptical brow.

“Y –yes!” He barked.

“and you’re _not_ tired?” Papyrus clarified. Reaching out, he took the small, cracked skull between his two larger hands.

Red couldn’t press himself into the door any further, so his head was easily caught. “N—n-no?” He was too distracted to figure out what sort of answer he was supposed to give. Eyes flicking nervously between the two hands that had closed around his face.

“i know you didn’t sleep the last two days, either, but these are _much_ older than that.” A thumb gently traced the bruise beneath his socket, causing Red to wince. Papyrus’ focus also seemed to be drawn just lower than his eyes as he inspected the bags. “you’ve made a lot of progress today, but, overall, you probably haven’t slept for more than three hours. it’ll take more than that to put a dent in these. Red, you don’t need to worry about anything else. you just need to relax. ok?”

“R –r-relax?” Red couldn’t help but echo. He was barely paying attention to the words as the nerves stirred inside him, but that one in particular stood out. How could he _relax_ when he was literally standing in a dimension he knew nothing of. It was filled with so many unknowns, he’d met a _rabbit guard_ earlier! Guard _dog_ just made more sense. Didn’t it? But _no._ Not here.

Hell! He couldn’t even figure out if this Papyrus was as dangerous as he should be or so soft that he was in dire need of protection himself.

“that’s right,” Papyrus continued to delicately prod around his socket. Voice smooth and easy. Almost as gentle as a lullaby. “if the kitchen explodes; me and Sans will handle it. if the _kitchen_ breaks down, we can always fix it later. but we _can’t_ fix you. at least, not until we know what’s wrong with you. so, what’s most important is that you take it easy. we don’t want to risk aggravating anything,” He stopped the invasive fingers to ask softly, “do you understand?”

Red was definitely leaning towards the later of his two conclusions.

 “Y -yeah… ok” He muttered, glancing between the two tangerine irises. Stiff as could be, but he could feel that rapid pulse beating his chest slowly decrease in frequency. Papyrus wasn’t mad at him. Rather, he was concerned for him? _Really_? They’d just met. There should be no reason for him to care.

“good,” Papyrus grinned adoringly. “now, copy me. take a deep breath,” His soothing drawl instructed. His chest swelling with a deep intake of air.

Red immediately mimicked him, as per the order, but he couldn’t keep his eyes on that smiling Papyrus. Instead, he instantly flicked his crimson orbs off nervously to the side, past him. Looking over his shoulder—where he locked eyes with Blue right as he sucked in that huge gulp of air.

He was staring at them.

Rather than make the bed as the tiny blue clone had planned; He seemed to have stopped before he even started. Hands resting limply over the still perfectly folded pile of sheets. Mute expression turned their way. And those blue orbs –that inquisitive stare was so intense. Paying very acute attention to their exchange. His gaze hadn’t even wavered once when their eyes met, boring a hole blankly into him.

Red held his breath. He felt his soul sinking in his chest. Anything Papyrus was saying went straight over his head. Caught by those cerulean eyes, he held onto the air long after Papyrus had ordered him to let go of his breath. He could faintly hear someone calling his name. “Red. Red?”

But his eyes were fixed on his clone. Seeming to snap to his senses, Blue’s eyes darted around in consideration, before staring down at his sheets. He lifted a blanket from the pile for a moment, brow furrowed. Then, set it back down. His eyes snapped back over to them.

Uncertainly, Blue interrupted, “UHM! HEY, PAPY?”

Red _swallowed_ his breath of air instead. Letting it lodge as a nervous lump in his throat.

Papyrus dropped his hold on Red’s skull to look back at his brother. “yeah?”

“I KIND OF WANT TO SLEEP ON MY BED BY MYSELF TONIGHT. I DIDN’T GET TO THE PAST TWO DAYS. DO YOU THINK YOUR BED IS CLEAN ENOUGH TO LET RED SLEEP ON YOURS?”

 “i guess so. i can take the couch.”

“– _ACTUALLY_ , I WAS THINKING YOU TWO COULD SHARE? LIKE WE WERE GOING TO? I THINK YOU WERE RIGHT TO STAY WITH HIM THE FIRST TWO NIGHTS. LIKE YOU SAID, WE DON’T KNOW WHAT’S WRONG WITH HIM. SO, SOMETHING MIGHT COME UP. LEAVING HIM UNATTENDED PROBABLY ISN’T A GOOD IDEA, RIGHT?”

“ok. but i thought you washed those sheets so he could use yours?”

“THAT WAS _BEFORE_ I CHANGED MY MIND,” Blue pouted adamantly, crossing his arms, “SO, ARE YOUR SHEETS CLEAN OR NOT?”

 “uh, yeah,” Papyrus said a bit dazed. He glanced back down at Red as if searching his expression for a hint. But Red wasn’t going to tell him what to do. So, he blinked blankly back at him, offering nothing. He supposed he didn’t deny anything either. So, Pap smiled slightly down at him, “ok sure. we can share then.”

Giving in to his brother’s request so easily. He really did seem to spoil him.

“GOOD!” Blue started, yet stopped mid cheer, face falling into concerned concentration. He threw his hands forward frantically, “A-ACTUALLY WAIT! I DON’T TRUST YOU, _AT ALL_. I’M GONNA GO CHANGE YOUR SHEETS!!!” He exclaimed. Scooping up the pile off his own bed, the doppelganger darted past them out the door back down the hall.

Papyrus leaned out the door, calling after him, “wait! you don’t have to change the sheets.”

“RED’S OUR _GUEST._ OF COURSE, YOU HAVE TO CHANGE THE SHEETS! YOU CAN’T MAKE HIM SLEEP IN YOUR FILTH!”

Papyrus darted out the door after his brother, “i meant, those sheets are for _your_ bed, aren’t they? i don’t even know if they’d fit on mine.”

Red took one look back at the ridiculously childish bedroom he’d almost slept in. He was a bit relieved to hear he wouldn’t be sleeping here. Somehow, it gave him an unpleasant feeling. Maybe because of that rodent. Then, he spun back out the door following the other two.

“I’LL MAKE THEM FIT!” Blue announced, bursting back into Papyrus’ room. His brother close in tow.

This time Red ran his hand along the wall for extra support. He didn’t even try to keep up with them. He took his time hobbling down the hallway, taking Papyrus’ advice.

“pfft! are you sure you’d rather do it this way?” He heard Papyrus’ voice snicker from his room.

“ABSOLUTELY!” Blue insisted as Red turned through the doorway. He’d stripped Papyrus’ mattresses and was trying to squeeze his slightly smaller sheet over the bed. “THIS MEANS YOUR BED’S A BIT BIGGER THAN MINE, TOO, RIGHT? SO, THIS WORKS OUT PERFECTLY!”

Red wasn’t sure if he should point out that was probably because Papyrus _took up_ more of the bed, too. But, he was the one without a place to sleep. Beggars can’t be choosers. Plus, he did prefer the familiarity of Papyrus’ room over Blue’s childish one. It was just the _Papyrus_ -part he was worried about.

But, since he’d arrived, the other hadn’t done anything cruel to him even once. He’d touched his soul –but that had saved him –and, since then, he hadn’t done anything overly invasive even once. Not even when he’d had to opportunity to. Sure, he behaved oddly sometimes, but, it would be fine, right?

At this point, he supposed he preferred it to rooming with Blue.

He glanced nervously up at the back of Papyrus’ head. The taller held back another snicker, watching his brother struggle, then offered, “here. let me help.”

Together, the brothers somehow managed to squeeze the smaller sheet over the mattress. It didn’t even fit down comfortably over the sides, it was just squeezing the very top layer of the top most mattress so fiercely that it looked like it’d pop off any moment. The whole sheet was pulled taut at every end.

“so…” Papyrus started, staring at the mess.

“WE CAN SWITCH BACK TOMORROW AFTER I CLEAN YOURS. JUST USE THESE TONIGHT.” Blue said, slipping new pillow cases over the pillows.

“whatever you want,” Papyrus shrugged, draping the blanket over the top.

“ALL DONE!” Blue announced happily, patting the fresh pillow he plopped back onto the mattress. “OK. YOU TWO ARE GOOD TO GO,” He scooped the old sheets off the floor as he headed for the door. Red stepped inside the room quickly to get out of his way. He didn’t seem like he could see past the sheets. Like a blind battering ram he charged out the door. His clone shifted the bundle to be balanced in one hand as he waved from the doorway. “GOODNIGHT, PAPY! GOODNIGHT, RED! SEE YOU IN THE MORNING!”

Red waved back weakly.

“goodnight, Sans.”

With that, Blue closed the door behind him, shutting them in the room together.

An awkward silence started to settle between them, before Papyrus broke it. He turned to look down at the smaller. “looks like we’re roommates tonight.”

“Y –y-yeah,” Red mumbled back awkwardly, rubbing an arm.

“if your uncomfortable; i can just take the sofa,” He offered. “Sans doesn’t have to know.”

“N–no! No, it’s okay,” Red muttered, eyes fixed on his feet. He wasn’t going to kick him out of his bed twice. “If a–anyone should take the c–couch, it’s me.”

“well, the sofa’s kind of lumpy. i’d rather you _actually_ get some sleep tonight.”

“Oh…”

“so? think you can actually sleep tonight?”

“I–I’ll try, I guess,” Red responded, walking over to the stacked mattresses. He climbed onto the bed, scooching over to the far side by the wall so Papyrus could have his room. He tried to take up as little space as possible.

“great! or else you’d just be staring at me all night again and – _pfft –_ that would just be _weird_ a third time, right?” He winked, climbing onto the bed after he’d settled into his spot.

Red was left completely speechless, stammering all over an apology, “S –s-sor—I’m s –sorry!”

“don’t be. that was just another tease,” His lazy drawl clarified, rolling away from him into the too- small blanket. “but _i do_ hope you get to sleep. goodnight, Red.”

“M—mm,” Red nodded, though he doubted Papyrus saw it now that he was facing the other way. Red slipped his own legs under the short blanket as well, rolling the opposite way towards the wall. He stared at the flat surface as the silence grew thick.

Papyrus— _this Papyrus_ –really did seem pretty harmless here. He wouldn’t have to worry about anything tonight. He hadn’t done anything to him when he had fallen asleep out at the post earlier either.

_He’d fallen asleep_. He’d had _one thing_ to do on sentry duty and he couldn’t even keep his eyes open. It was like his own shifts all over again! Except this nap hadn’t been some random little reprieve from life at home. For all he knew, Papyrus needed protection today and he’d passed out on him instead. _On his lap._ Ugh. He might have just ruined years worth of set-up right there in one instant.

Sure, Papyrus had told him to, but that was only _after_ he’d gotten drowsy standing up. That command was only a response to his failings.

He’d really fucked up.

If Papyrus hadn’t even gotten mad at him for _that,_ he didn’t know why he’d ever worried about the kitchen in the first place. What was a little mess compared to years worth of a destroyed reputation?

Yet… He could’ve stopped that whole sauce incident, too, if he had just said something. He just wasn’t sure if he _should._ But… this Papyrus seemed to ask him what was on his mind frequently. More in one day than Boss had in months. Maybe he would’ve actually listened to what he had to say?

Maybe he would’ve listened to a warning then?

Maybe he’d listen to what he had to say now. Even if it was a pathetic excuse.

“H-hey, Bos—I mean, P-Papyrus?” How _was_ he supposed to call him exactly?

There was a pause. “…yeah?”

“S-sorry ‘fer not bein’ any help at ‘yer post earlier. On sentry duty. I mean, I d-didn’t mean ‘ta nod off,” Red pulled the blanket a little closer, self-conscious. He would know he was lying. So, he amended, “I mean, not ‘fer _that long_ , at least.”

“hm? oh, don’t worry about that,” The other hummed easily. “you were helpful.”

He was—?

“ _How_?” Red couldn’t stop the deadpan way the question fell out of his mouth. Because, seriously, how could he have possibly been helpful if he was unconscious?

He felt the small blanket tug back the other direction a bit as Papyrus curled into the opposite end.

“you were warm,” He could practically hear the teasing smirk in the voice as he said it.

The answer left Red positively speechless—and now very, very self-conscious –for a different reason. Papyrus seemed to know he’d stumped him. Red felt the mattress shake as the other huffed a little sort of muffled laugh at his expense. “that was also a tease. goodnight, Red.”

“g-g’night,” He muttered back weakly, rolling into that too-short sheet further until…

 

 

 

_It was cold._

_He blinked, staring down that familiar sight. He was on the snow path again, standing in that same spot. Sans stared down the expanse into the fog of swirling snow, feeling that sinking apprehension of his soul drop into his gut. Papyrus was going to find him if he stood here._

_He began to pace._

_Should he stay? No, no…_

_He needed to flee. He already knew he couldn’t do this. There weren’t enough excuses in the world to cover for him this time. His knees were already shaking. He should just be the fucking coward he knew he was and run away._

_He froze when his eye caught sight of the silhouette in the distance._

_The small form of his little brother had appeared in the snowy fog, growing nearer. His fears stepped out of the haze as the ghost approached. Little red boots, crimson mittens curled into the front of his shirt, a matching oversized scarf, and a flat expression pasted onto his skull, suppressing a deeper frown._

_He wasn’t expecting anything from Sans this time, was he?_

_He’d already let him down._

_Sans’ eyes instantly fell nervously to his own dirty sneakers. Any words he should have said already lost. He couldn’t bring himself to say hello or to even look at him!_

_The shame was too crushing._

_He was_ ashamed _to be standing in front of him like this. Because how dare he after what he’d done to him?! Pap deserved so much better. He deserved not to be held back by a fuckup like Sans. He wanted to run. He wanted to flee so badly. He was terrified of what Pap might say now that he’d finally realized he was nothing more than a burden holding him back._

_But the fear, oh that gripping fear of what Pap would say, rooted him to the spot._

_He didn’t want to have this conversation, but he needed to. He knew he needed to talk to him. He deserved an explanation –or at least some clarification that it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t_ his _problem!_

_But as the crunching snow of little feet began to approach him, all those words, all the important excuses he needed to give built up in a strangled mess of incredible shame locked away behind his throat. Still he didn’t move. He didn’t run._

_Until those two red boots were right in front of him. Just at the corner of his vision._

_Sans was overcome with such a wash of deadening fright at what Papyrus might say –at how he might_ scold _him—that the only proof he was still alive at all was the frantic beat of his soul echoing through his bones. He was having second thoughts, staring down at those two tiny feet planted in the snow before him._

_And Pap was so_ quiet.

_Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why wasn’t he telling him off? Hell knew he deserved it._

_…He didn’t want Sans to start this conversation, did he?_

_He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t ready. All the words he needed to say were lost in his throat. Torn in a jumble in his mind. What exactly was he supposed to say at a time like this anyway? Fuck, he should have fled. Maybe it wasn’t too late to—That frantic beat grew into a horrifying crescendo when those crimson boots finally stepped forward once more._

_Pap hugged him. Practically fell into him._

_The embrace wasn’t gentle or shy. It was nearly a tackle. His brother gripped onto him something fierce, squeezing his short arms all the way around his back as he buried his head into the thick fabric of his winter coat desperately. As if he were trying to push his head in so far he could hear Sans’ frenzied pulse._

_Stirring up an unsettling emotion deep within his soul._

_It was so unfair. This was really foul play._

_But when he felt those tiny fists, trembling slightly, curl into the back of his jacket with an almost needy impulse; he finally broke._

_“…I’m s-sorry!” Sans choked out past his fangs, voice quivering._

_Yet words weren’t nearly enough to even_ begin _to express the sort of remorse he felt. ‘Sorry’ didn’t even come close to suffice for all of the ways that Sans had failed him._

_Those delicate, little arms squeezed him even harder. Pap vigorously shook his head back and forth into his coat, denying any words to define this moment. Burying his head even further into his tough winter coat. His brother kept pressing into him so intensely that Sans finally lost his footing and fell backwards in the snow._

_Yet even sitting in the freezing cold, sprawled across his lap; his brother hadn’t let go of him. Still clinging onto him desperately._

_Sans didn’t deserve it._

_He didn’t_ deserve _this kind of love._

_He didn’t deserve to be forgiven!_

_It was_ his fault _that Pap had lost everything they’d worked so hard to achieve together. Everything they’d ever done;_ gone _–because of his own stupid choices. And_ still _Pap wouldn’t let go. Sans finally had enough sense to hug him back, crushing the tiny form between his arms with all the force of his guilt and shame and grief._

_Nothing he ever did was going to be enough for him._

_Words weren’t enough._

_His apology came out as a broken sob, “–I’m_ s-so _sorry—!”_

Red groggily blinked sore eyes open. Gaze solemnly wandering down the length of his two arms, outstretched in front of him, half thrown over the side of the bed he was lazily lying on. His fingers twitched emptily. There was no one in his arms anymore.

His brother was gone.

So, why could he still feel a pressure around his middle? Red blinked multiple times, trying to convince his tired sockets to open more than slits so he could see past that hazy blur, but he felt so lethargic. Trying to come to his senses, he could hear quiet chattering nearby.

“maybe we should just let him sleep today.”

“WHY?” Blue tried to whisper quietly, but failed.

“let’s say… it was a rough night,” Papyrus answered. Strangely enough, his sentence was punctuated by a slight tightening to the pressure around Red’s waist.

Red’s eyes snapped open. _Oh._ That was why. He might not have anyone in his arms anymore, but _he_ was most definitely in _someone else’s_ arms.

Red whirled around as far as he could, eyes huge, at the skeleton lying behind him. His little fists gripping urgently into the arms that were curled tightly around him. Eyes frantically questioning the logic behind this. Red’s back was now pressed into Papyrus’ larger chest, somehow facing out of the bed. Yet when they’d _fallen asleep_ their backs were turned away from each other, Red facing the inner wall –and they certainly _hadn’t_ been touching then.

_How_.

Papyrus quirked an almost forced, guilty smile back at him, like _he knew_ this wasn’t how they were supposed to be sleeping, yet deflected the question skillfully. “good morning, Red,” He _greeted_ instead of answering that question lingering in the other’s eyes.

“OH NO!” Blue keened, covering his mouth with both his hands. Muffling, “IH WOKE MM UP AGAIM!”

Red flinched back the other way at the powerful voice, realizing they had company, too. Still letting his sleep-addled mind catch up to this situation. His doppelganger was standing very close to the bed where he’d been bent over, whispering to his brother. And between Papyrus pressed behind him and Blue huddled over him, Red felt his personal space had been horribly invaded.

Was his clone here to wake them up for the morning? Like he had the other mornings? A better question might be how the hell had Red slept through Blue’s entrance into a room?

It was always painfully loud.

“well, it’s too late to worry about that now,” Papyrus’ lethargic voice consoled. “looks like he’s already up. so, i guess, we’ll be down in a minute, Sans.”

“OK! DON’T GO BACK TO SLEEP—” He stopped mid-sentence, thinking, “EXCEPT FOR RED,” He corrected, tossing a firm nod down to the confused skeleton, “YOU CAN GO BACK TO SLEEP IF YOU WANT TO.”

Red was left speechless.

“ _oooh_. lucky~” Papyrus hummed behind him, teasing jealousy at his special privilege.

Blue puffed himself up, setting his hands on his hips, a firm scolding expression set on his skull—which looked so out of place on their shared face. “PAPY, YOU SLEEP ALL DAY, EVERYDAY. _YOU_ HAVE TO GET UP NOW. STOP USING RED AS AN EXCUSE.”

“alright, alright,” Papyrus surrendered without a fight. “i’ll see you downstairs in a few.”

Blue nodded. Content with this answer, he turned to leave, skipping to the bedroom door. He spun at the entrance, for no other reason than to leave them with one last reason to get out of bed, “YOU WON’T REGRET WAKING UP TO SEE THE DAY! IT’S ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL OUTSIDE!” He beamed. With that, he shut the door behind him.

“thanks for the wake up call, Sans,” Papyrus called lethargically before the door shut his voice off completely. In the silence, Papyrus adjusted himself against the skeleton in his arms, getting comfortable once more. “so?” He asked, voice right behind his head. “how are you feeling today?”

“I—w –what?” Panic spiked into his voice.

“what do you want to do? do you want to sleep more? or do you want to get up?” Papyrus clarified calmly. Even snaking a yawn between two of the questions.

“I—” He _wanted_ to get out of this position. This wasn’t anything like the loose, uninterested hold at his sentry post before. That had just been securing him on – loosely. Now, Papyrus had _both_ arms wrapped around him snuggly –even though that clearly served no function. Those long arms curled around his lower chest, pulling him back. He could feel the other pressed against his spine. And, if he paid close enough attention, he might have even felt a soulbeat that wasn’t his.

This was entirely too much contact.

What had happened when they were asleep? He’d thought this Papyrus wasn’t interested in this! That’s why he’d even agreed to share the bed!

He was used to Papyrus doing whatever he wanted, without having a say in the matter, but this Papyrus asked him frequently what was on his mind. Maybe, he’d want to hear what he had to say? Maybe it was a misunderstanding. Maybe he’d let go, if he just _asked_ , “I– w–w-want ‘ya ‘ta— _hn_!!!”

Red jolted as a short, quick vibration rumbled against the lower half of his back. Right near his ass. His fingers dug into the forearms around his chest in alarm, not letting up even after the vibration had ended.

What the fuck was that? It was behind him so he couldn’t see.

He hadn’t recovered in the slightest after the initial shock. So, he jumped even more violently when a second vibration buzzed against him just seconds after the first. This time he managed to hold his voice back, but the jolt was obvious fear.

“sorry,” Papyrus apologized quickly, “it’s just the phone.” He hurried to grab the device from his front pocket, snatching it just as it buzzed again with a third text. Papyrus unwrapped both his arms from the smaller form, holding his phone out lethargically in front of them with both hands so he could see. Red, who was still between his arms even though they were now unwound, had a clear view of the screen from this angle as Papyrus peeked over the smaller at his messages.

The top of the screen had the photo of the two of them from yesterday. Both covered in tomato sauce. Red was glowering into the camera looking quite unnerved. Next to him, Papyrus was smiling, but there was a slight, nervous tilt to the top of his eyes that made the whole smile look concerned instead. The caption read:

>>> what’s this stuff? should i be worried? Undyne help. please.

He’d sent her a prank text? The ‘please’ Blue had made him add for politeness’ sake just made the whole thing sound more desperate. Her response was anything but composed.

<<< HOLY FUCK

<<< How did you get it everywhere???

<<< I have no idea if that’s contagious! I’ve never seen this before. Or are you injured?! Are you alright?! Were you harmed??

Papyrus huffed a slight laugh behind him, reading the texts. “she’s always so gullible,” He mumbled quietly, yet fondly, as he started clicking in his response.

>>> it’s ok. we’re fine.

>>> look.

He attached the video they’d taken yesterday, in which Red had confessed into the camera that he was alright to Undyne. Yet Undyne responded too quickly to have even watched the video. The phone buzzing in his hand multiple times in short succession.

<<< I don’t want to see these.

<<< I tried to tell you, Papyrus.

<<< I warned you not to get so close to him!

Papyrus voiced a very deadpanned, “ _whoops._ ” Hastily sending the other two pictures in which –at least Papyrus –was smiling much more convincingly into the camera.

No response.

She suddenly wasn’t answering her phone anymore.

Red furrowed his brow at the screen, “I thought ‘ya _didn’t_ want ‘ta scare her off. W-wasn’t that the whole point?”

“i thought, you know,” Red felt Papyrus shrug behind him, “just because you _seemed_ better, she wouldn’t necessarily be up to meeting you. but if she realized she cared more than she was afraid; she’d be more willing to help out. its not going to work, though, if she doesn’t actually realize that you’re ok. i’d… uh, better go make sure she sees those other pictures.” He wisely decided, untangling himself from around the smaller.

And for an instant Red realized he hadn’t squirmed out of the hold the second he had the chance to. Lying between the other’s arms instead of taking the opportunity for freedom.

He’d just been distracted by the texts.

Papyrus sat up, eyes glued to his phone, clicking down a few more responses as he tugged the blanket off. Yet the phone never buzzed back. He stepped carefully over Red off the mattresses. His attention remained locked onto the screen as he made his way out the door to the banister, calling over the railing, “hey, Sans. i got a text from Undyne.”

“YOU DID?” Blue’s booming voice asked excitedly, several equally enthusiastic stomps followed along with a skidding noise. He was no doubt clueless Papyrus had sent her such a prank text. “WHAT DID SHE SAY?”

“i’ve got to go see her right now. i’ll be back later. can you watch Red?”

“SURE! I’LL SAVE YOUR BREAKFAST, TOO.”

“great, thanks bro.” With that he stepped away from the banister, vanishing into a shortcut. Red’s eyes lingered on the spot where the tall form had disappeared. A sudden bereft silence following his absence.

Which was rudely interrupted by the second voice.

“RED?” Blue called up. “ARE YOU GETTING UP NOW?”

“U—Uhn?” Red tried to make an affirmative noise loud enough that he could hear amidst his confusion.

“BREAKFAST’S ALMOST DONE! I LEFT A CHANGE OF CLOTHES FOR YOU ON PAPY’S DRESSER. COME ON DOWN WHEN YOU’RE FINISHED CHANGING!”

“O—o –alright!” His crimson eyes flicked over to the dresser, spying the folded clothes sitting atop it. Red threw back the covers Papyrus had left him with, swinging his legs out to the side. He stood up, testing his legs. It was pretty easy, actually. Weak, but workable. Maybe better if not at least on par with last night’s functionality.

Maybe it was just his head that felt so off?

A hand to his head, he shook his skull, trying to shake off the lingering drag of sleep’s confusion. He made his way over to the clothes, shutting the bedroom door on the way. Then, lifted the shirt off the top of the pile. It was a light blue tee, but when he stretched it out he could see the giant, grinning smiley face drawn across the front in white. Didn’t his clone have any normal outfits?

Whatever. It was better than pajamas.

With a glance around the room to make sure it was empty, Red tugged the button up over his head, forcing it past the snag of his collar. He stripped off the silky pajamas, replacing them with the provided outfit. Once again, despite the poor taste, it was hard to complain about the fit when the original owner was his own damn clone.

He left the discarded pajamas in a pile on the floor, not sure where else to put them. Then, clacked the door open to Papyrus’ room. Red glanced both ways before exiting. Probably more of a habit than a necessity at this point. He didn’t rush, but took his time as he made his way down the all-too-familiar stairs into the not-so-familiar living room. He appeared in the kitchen archway silently, hands fidgeting nervously in front of himself without the proper pockets to shove them into.

“THERE YOU ARE! GOOD MORNING,” Blue greeted, busily working over the stove. “TAKE A SEAT. I’LL DISH YOU UP A PLATE.”

Red did as he was told, sliding into his normal seat at the kitchen table. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised when Blue set yet another taco in front of him. It was hardly a breakfast food. Yet his alternate didn’t seem to cook much else.

He couldn’t help but notice this one was off, too. The lumpy concoction in the center certainly wasn’t any type of meat Red had ever seen. “W—w-what’s in this?” He managed to ask.

“IT’S BLUEBERRY FILLING!” His doppelganger announced proudly. “IT’S A SUPERFOOD. IT’LL HELP YOU GET BETTER FASTER.”

Red skeptically inspected the contents of his meal. So, he’d taken _a taco_ and stuffed it with _pie filling_? He guessed that didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. Why didn’t he just make one or the other, though? He picked it up inquisitively. The mushy filling, dribbled out of the two open ends, not solid enough to remain inside. The purple-ish juices soaked through the taco, making the shell soggy. But, although weird, it was hardly a concoction that would kill him.

He took a crunchy bite.

The taco shell shattered and the whole thing crumbled out of his hand into a congealed lump on his plate.

Red blinked at it. “Uhm. C—could I g-get a spoon with this?”

“SURE THING!” Blue fetched the requested item, returning it to the table. Red timidly took the spoon from his hand. “I’LL GRAB YOU A DRINK, TOO!”

“O–ok.” It felt weird to be waited on. Usually he was the one doing the serving.

“DO YOU WANT WATER OR TEA?”

“Water’s fine,” Red mumbled quietly. It would be the least trouble.

“ONE GLASS OF WATER COMING UP,” Blue answered loudly. He fetched that as well, returning a filled glass to the table. Red nodded shyly in gratitude as he handed it off. Watching his clone as he went back to the stove, wrapping a second plate and storing it in the fridge. That must be Papyrus’ breakfast. Afterwards, he returned to the table with his own food. He slid into the seat immediately next to Red.

“HOW IS IT?” Those cerulean eyes implored, begging an answer.

“…It’s s-sweet,” Red concluded after some thought. It was the best way to describe whatever this mess was.

“YEAH. SORRY,” Blue giggled. Actively engaging him in conversation for some unfathomable reason, “I THOUGHT PAPY WOULD BE EATING WITH US. HE _LOVES_ SWEET THINGS. I THINK ALL HIS TEETH ARE SWEETTEETH.”

Red forced a worn, shaky half-smile at him over the glob of a meal. “Y-yeah?” He seemed to speak fondly of his brother even when he wasn’t around, huh?

“OH YES. YOU SAW HIM YESTERDAY, DIDN’T YOU? HE EATS HONEY STRAIGHT FROM THE JAR! IF HE KEEPS GOING AT THIS RATE, I MIGHT HAVE TO IMPOSE A LIMIT.”

Red nearly dropped his spoon at the declaration. He glanced from his food to Blue, then back to the food multiple times, but Blue’s face looked serious. Not like he was telling a joke in poor taste. As if he’d actually meant that. Shakily Red asked, “Is that—is that somethin’ ‘ya can _do_?”

_Sans_ impose a limit on _Papyrus_. It seemed a bit far-fetched even for an active imagination.

“I COULD—” Blue cut off, thinking, rolling the option around in his head. Finally correcting, “I COULD _TRY._ PAPY CAN BE QUITE STUBBORN WITH CERTAIN THINGS. HONEY WOULD _DEFINITELY_ BE ONE OF THOSE THINGS,” He said with a bit of a far-off look. “OH, BUT ENOUGH ABOUT PAPY. WHAT ABOUT YOU? YOU ACTUALLY GOT SOME SLEEP LAST NIGHT, DIDN’T YOU?”

“U-uhn,” Red nodded.

“HOW DO YOU FEEL?”

“Like I s-slept, I guess.” He wasn’t convinced he wasn’t still just dreaming. There was a certain fog hanging over his mind.

Blue pouted at that sarcastic response. “I MEANT _RELATIVELY_. DO YOU FEEL WORSE THAN YESTERDAY?”

“I g–guess not.”

“THEN DO YOU FEEL BETTER?”

“I s-suppose,” Red muttered, shoveling some more breakfast into his mouth. He felt like he was being herded into these answers.

“THAT’S GREAT!” Blue cheered, finally getting the answer he wanted. He downed several bites of his own breakfast, then started the conversation up again, unable to eat in silence. “DID PAPY TOSS AND TURN ALL NIGHT? WAS HE TALKING TOO MUCH IN HIS SLEEP?”

“I wouldn’t k-know.” He was still trying to figure how –or _why_ –the hell they had completely reversed positions sometime in the night.

“WOWIE! DOES THAT MEAN YOU SLEPT THE WHOLE NIGHT THEN? THAT’S FANTASTIC!” Blue praised. “I WAS A BIT WORRIED. SOMETIMES PAPY CAN BE A RESTLESS SLEEPER.”

A restless sleeper, huh? Boss wasn’t like that at all. Well, that might explain how they’d changed positions, but not how they’d switched sides. It felt more intentional than that. Red rubbed a hand absently across the phantom strength around his middle.

Was it Papyrus’ fault he’d had a dream like that?

But why would he grab him like that in the middle of the night? Unless he _wanted_ something from him. But he hadn’t woken him up. Surely, Red would have woken up if something had happened. It wasn’t like he’d roofied the spaghetti –Red had watched him make it! Papyrus hadn’t seemed to have any interest in that sort of thing yesterday. He didn’t seem particularly interested in it this morning either—which honestly left his motives as a complete mystery.

Why was he so confusing? Why was he nothing like Boss? Weren’t they both _Papyrus_?

Blue wasn’t sure how to take the sudden silence that had taken over his only conversation partner. His cerulean eyes wandered off to the side, trying to wrack his brain for other ways to prolong the one-sided conversation. He perked up when he’d finally decided on a topic. “HEY, RED!”

The scarred skeleton blinked, snapped away from his thoughts as he turned crimson eyes back to the other.

“YOU WERE WITH PAPY JUST NOW, RIGHT? DID YOU HAPPEN TO SEE WHAT UNDYNE SAID? I WAS WONDERING HOW LONG PAPY WOULD BE. DO YOU THINK HE’LL BE GONE LONG?”

Red chewed on the spoon nervously. He supposed, if the way he’d left was any indication, right about now Papyrus was breaking into Undyne’s house in the exact fashion Blue had asked him not to. He couldn’t just rat him out, could he?

“I—I d-didn’t see,” Red lied. “M–maybe it’ll take a while?”

After all, he’d have to explain the misunderstanding.

“IS THAT SO?” His clone seemed to deflate at that news.

Red had no idea what to do with sad people, so he just shoveled the rest of his plate into his mouth so he could pretend he was too busy to do something more helpful.

“UHM. I HAVE A FAVOR TO ASK.” Blue clapped his hands together, interrupting. “DO YOU THINK YOU COULD STAY AT THE HOUSE ALONE FOR A BIT WHILE I TAKE THE LAUNDRY OUT? IT’S JUST, WITH THE _SAUCE_ AND THE BEDDING, EVERYTHING IS GETTING BEHIND. IT’S STARTING TO PILE UP!”

Red blinked at him blankly.

Did he _look_ like he was five? Of course he could. But before he could form any words past his fangs—

“OH! WAIT!” Blue interrupted again. “I HAVE AN EVEN _BETTER_ IDEA! WHY DON’T YOU JUST COME WITH ME?” His eyes sparkled, “YOU DON’T WANT TO STAY IN THE HOUSE ALL DAY, ANYWAY, RIGHT? I COULD USE A HELPER!”

“I—” Red knew what answer he _wanted_ him to give. It was pretty obvious. “I guess not. S—s–sure?”

“FANTASTIC! THANK YOU, RED!” Blue beamed, leaning over the table as excitement shone in his eyes. “I’LL BE ABLE TO GET SO MUCH DONE NOW THAT MY SCHEDULE WON’T BE SET BACK! THE MAGNIFICENT SANS MUST STRIVE TO REMAIN PUNCTUAL.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d just agreed to, but Blue seemed pretty happy about it, so Red quirked a shaky smile back at him, attempting to match even a fraction of his excitement.

“I’LL GET THE PLATES,” Blue beamed, snatching his now empty dish and stacking it atop his own. “THEN WE CAN HEAD OUT. I WASHED YOUR COAT LAST NIGHT. IT’S OVER THERE, GOOD AS NEW, ON THE TOP OF THE PILE,” He pointed out towards the laundry baskets set by the front door. “YOU SHOULD PUT IT ON BEFORE WE HEAD OUT.”

“O—ok,” Red mumbled, slipping out of his chair. He shuffled out of the kitchen, hearing the sound of the sink and clattering dishes behind him as he made his way to the baskets. There were three in total, two full of a crumpled pile of outfits and one that had a few clothes folded in a neat stack placed within. It was obviously the clean basket. Just as instructed, at the top of the pile sat his black leather coat.

Red lifted the folded jacket out of the basket. Once again, it was spotlessly clean. Blue had done a great job removing all the tomato stains. As he slipped it on, he glanced down at the rest of the basket. Below his coat was Papyrus’ orange hoodie. Red’s brow furrowed in confusion because the guy had been _wearing_ an orange hoodie when he’d left this morning. How many of these did he own? It seemed unwise to have even one of these vibrant beacons, let alone _multiple._

But before he could contemplate Papyrus’ poor fashion choices further, Blue jogged to the front door to join him. “THANKS SO MUCH FOR COMING ALONG AGAIN. I REALLY APPRECIATE IT.”

Red hastily zipped the front of his jacket up before Blue tried to do it for him again, muttering, “N-no problem.”

His doppelganger heaved one of the dirty baskets off the ground, shoving it into Red’s arms unexpectedly. “HERE. YOU CARRY THIS ONE. IT’S LIGHTER.” Blue picked up the more overflowing basket himself. Judging by the size of the clothes within; that one was probably Papyrus’.

Even though his was lighter, Red fumbled with the load regardless, simply because of the bulky shape of the basket. He hadn’t been expecting to carry something, let alone have the laundry shoved into his hands. By the time he gained control over his share, Blue had opened the door for him.

A rush of cold and light seeped into the house through the entrance. Red exited quickly, stepping off to the side of the door to wait for Blue because he had _no idea_ where they were going. Red had always washed the clothes in the bathroom.

Blue shut the door behind them, then scooped up his basket from the porch. “FOLLOW ME,” His clone beckoned, leading the way down the cabin steps and into the street.

Red followed obediently, peeking past the lump of basket to keep track of the small skeleton bobbing ahead, but his eyes couldn’t help but wander. Blue hadn’t lied to them this morning. It was a surprisingly beautiful day out. It was a rare day that it didn’t snow in Snowdin. While the white coating was a permanent addition to the icy street, the lack of a storm or flurries to accompany it was a welcome change. The ground seemed to sparkle in the morning light as they made their way towards town.

The two made their way past strange neighboring buildings, brightly colored and brimming with decorations. Not a single one was dilapidated. Not one was boarded up. They passed the street that lead up towards the river, but Blue stuck to the main path, heading deeper into town.

And the further they went, the more uncomfortable Red grew.

The town was just coming alive in these early morning hours, yet, even now, there were already so many _people_ out on the roads. Red had always known the streets to be scarce. Sure there were bound to be some people towards town, but not like this. These people were loitering, standing and laughing around on the street together seemingly fearless of the others. That was the mark of a large alliance. A gang then? Red huddled in closer towards Blue, struggling to stay close on his quick heels as the pedestrians—and potential enemies –thickened.

He didn’t know how he was going to defend himself with a laundry basket.

Yet Blue didn’t seem concerned with them whatsoever. Instead, leading them further into the danger. Red tried to remain just as outwardly fearless as his counterpart the deeper they went.

They passed the spot where Grillbys should be, but instead the bar was purplish in hue. The sign read ‘Muffet’s’ across the top in huge letters. Peering past the large glass window as they passed, there appeared to be lacey curtains adorning the inside. Past that building, there was a large tree with ribbons and baubles strapped to it in the center of town. Colorful boxes lined the base of the trunk.

Red’s basket slipped from his grasp multiple times while they walked as he forgot himself staring at all the oddities. Hastily hefting it back into his arms before he accidentally dropped it completely while distracted. He had to gawk. He couldn’t help himself. It was Snowdin, but it _wasn’t_ Snowdin. Papyrus and him had slipped past the town before through a shortcut. They’d missed all of this. So, each appalling difference was new and bizarre and ultimately shocking.

Finally, at the opposite side of town, Blue finally veered off the main road, bee-lining towards the building Red knew as the Inn. Hustling to stay on his heels, the small, scarred skeleton fumbled after him as his clone entered the door. With a few nervous glances thrown over his shoulder at the unusual world behind, Red followed his guide through the quaint entrance, laundry first. The gentle tingle of a bell announced their arrival.

 “Welcome…” A voice greeted.

“…to the Inn!” The other finished.

“The Snowed Inn!” The voices greeted together in perfect, jovial unison.

That hauntingly familiar sound stopped him dead in his tracks. It chilled him all the way down to his marrow. Red locked up stiffly in the doorway, jumping slightly when the door slammed closed behind him. It sounded like a damning lock to his ears. He dared to peer past his basket at the front room of the inn. Yet this time, he _didn’t_ follow his bobbing guide as the other eagerly approached the Inn’s front desk.

Blue groaned exaggeratedly, dropping his basket on the floor next to him. He flopped dramatically over the counter, whining, “NOT YOU, TOO!”

The clerks giggled. Dogaressa and Dogamy stood behind the counter.

“DON’T LISTEN TO PAPY. THAT’S A TERRIBLE NAME!” His alternate scolded the couple.

Red couldn’t move.

Frozen at the sight of the couple he’d watched _die,_ standing alive and grinning behind the counter. The sight was so surreal. He supposed it was entirely possible –given everything else. But he hadn’t even stopped to consider that the monsters that were dead in his universe might be _alive_ in this one.

Oh no.

“What brings you here…”

“…bright and early?”

“Back for more…”

“…laundry, perhaps?”

“THAT’S RIGHT,” Blue beamed. Emptying his pockets, he dropped some coins on the desk as payment. “I’M CLEANING EVERYTHING BECAUSE WE HAVE COMPANY OVER,” His doppelganger explained. Announcing proudly with an equally proud pose, “AND COMPANY DESERVES THE ONLY THE FRESHEST APPAREL!”

Dogaressa giggled at the little one’s exaggerated cuteness. A hand over her snout. “Is that your guest…”

“…back there, perhaps?” Dogamy finished.

“YEAH! THIS IS… Red…” Blue’s cheerful introduction trailed off as he realized Red was no longer standing next to him. His clone turned away from the counter, joining the other two pairs of eyes, as all three of them looked back at the skeleton who hadn’t moved from the doorway.

Oh no.

What was he going to do? The dogs had seen him. Was it too late to just leave? A roiling, nervous dread began to seep through his bones. An apprehensive unease he couldn’t suppress as those three pairs of eyes bored into him. He could feel his knees begin to rattle.

The two looked at each other, then looked back at their strange, unmoving visitor. Trying to coax him inside, “What brings you to town…?”

“…Are you here early for the festival?”

Yet Red didn’t even attempt to answer. He stood stiffly, barely even breathing, as if he were suddenly broken. Big, crimson eyes flicking between the man he’d killed and the wife who’d hunted him down for it.

He shouldn’t be here.

 “Well, don’t stand back there…” Dogaressa called to him. Yet his mind couldn’t help but mix the voice with a cruel bite. Her curious gaze replaced with those deadened hate-filled eyes he was more accustomed to.

“…Come on in!” Dogamy beckoned. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from thinking of being led astray into the woods. Forced into the snow. A coarse rope locking his hands down behind his back. A rising panic in his chest.

Why would _they,_ of all people, possibly want him to come in? Why did they want him inside?

Was this another trap?

Was he going to be—

A sharp bark from off to the side caused Red to flinch. A white dog he’d never seen before bounded around the counter on all fours, sliding across the hardwood. He was smaller than any of the pack Red had ever seen, but was still pretty massive by any normal standards.

“AHHH!” Blue yelled as it lunged towards his legs. The canine snatched a piece of clothing off the top of his laundry basket between his jaws. Blue dove after it, grabbing the other end before the thief could make off with it. The skeleton threw all his weight back to try and rescue the article. The dog did the same at the opposite end, stretching the fabric between them.

A deep growl rumbled out of the dogs’ throat as they fought over the article, pulling at both ends. The canine shook its head, trying futilely to shake his opponent off. Yet was pulling so hard even Blue’s footing was slipping across the floor, _towards_ his attacker _._

“Is that how you treat guests…?”

“ _Drop it_!” The Dogi scolded.

Yet it was Blue’s own feat of strength that finally got the beast to let go, yanking it out of the dog’s mouth with a powerful tug of his own. He threw his winnings back on top of the basket, then lifted the whole load high out of the pursuing hound’s reach. “NO,” Blue said firmly, trying to dodge away from the pestering dog. “YOU CAN’T EAT MY SOCKS THIS TIME!”

“We do apologize about that,” The couple said together with an apologetic laugh.

“He’s at that age…”

“…where he likes to chew.”

On those words, the smaller dog spun around. Beady, little eyes locked on Red.

He felt his soul  d r o p.

The canine bounded towards him excitedly, barking and yipping. Jaws snapping. He wasn’t nearly as intimidating as any of the other dogs in the pack. Hell, he was only a fraction of their size—but so was _Red_. If this dog stood up, he could probably put his front paws on Red’s shoulder. Or close. He was small _er_ , but he was still _big._ Easily big enough to knock him over. Easily big enough to pin him down.

The basket of laundry clattered to the floor.

The three at the counter turned at the commotion.

Red was already backing up. His back slammed into the front door noisily, feet still frantically retreating even though the door prevented him from exiting. Wild eyes locked on the fast approaching canine. Red fumbled blindly behind him for the door handle.

“RED?” He barely heard Blue’s voice pitch in worry.

Then, he found the handle.

Red practically fell out the front door backwards—He almost _did_ go down, swung out with the door by gravity –but managed to pull himself upright by the door handle as he spun himself around to flee into the street. Sliding all over the iced ground. Scrambling for balance from his near spill. He only got a few steps into the middle of the street before he actually tripped, falling into the snow butt up.

And he _panicked_! He lost it.

“Ah!” He cried, a whimper caught in his throat. He flung himself back over, rolling onto his back quickly, because _he knew better than to stay like that_. The dog was bounding towards him. He shuffled backwards away in the freezing snow from the hound chasing after his flailing legs.

The loud, blue skeleton bounded to the front door after him. It wobbled on its hinges where he’d thrown it wide open. “WAIT!” Blue called into the snow. Regarding the terrified skeleton with confusion. “IT’S JUST A PUPPY!”

The words were drowned out. Sans was too busy focusing on the snapping mandible of the canine as it bounded after him in the snow, barking. Following him. Stalking him as he crawled away on all fours. He certainly seemed a lot bigger when Red was the one on the ground. He’d easily caught up to his helpless prey, nipping at his feet. His jaw –and teeth– caught Red’s shoe. But he was just playing.

_They were only toying with him._

“ _AHH!” Fear_ -driven; he was frantic. He needed to get away, kicking his legs hysterically. He had to move! But the hound was latched onto his sneaker, tugging him back every time Red made even an ounce of progress in the opposite direction, trying to claw himself away –but his useless body wasn’t nearly strong enough to pull himself away.

_He was caught._

He _couldn’t_ get caught!

Red pulled on his magic. If he could grab his own soul with gravity, he could fling himself away like last time. With the extra force, maybe he could pull them both apart. He could escape. The magic crackled to life in his eye, fire wisping out of the socket.

Then–

–it went out.

His eyelights guttered out along with it, dropping him into a world of petrifying darkness. He tried desperately to get his sight back. Crimson eyelights flickering in and out of existence between his two sockets. His vision strobed terrifyingly between utter blackness and the dog standing over him, weight pinning him down, jowls snapping. A series of barks echoing loudly through his skull.

When, suddenly, two long arms scooped him out of the snow, lifting him well out of the reach of the mutt.

Red curled into the fabric desperately as he was hoisted between two big poofy arms. The dog was far below him now, but it wasn’t nearly far enough for Red. He pulled himself higher. He couldn’t clamber up the height fast enough. He was mid-hauling a leg onto the shoulder of the person who’d picked him up –when he locked flickering eyelights with his rescuer.

It was Boss.

Of course; it would be _Boss_ who’d watched him put on such a pathetic display.

Sans went still, half balanced precariously on his brother’s shoulder.

“Bo-Boss!” He stammered out –and he didn’t know what to feel. He was relieved and he was terrified. And Boss might hit him or save him or throw him to the dogs or kill all of the dogs. He didn’t know, but some sort of emotion was heaving in his chest. Big, wet tears leaked from Sans’ sockets as he stared at him, waiting for his move.

Boss stared up at him, tangerine eyes wide, brow raised in shock. He, too, was still. Frozen for a few seconds as teardrops dripped onto his face.

“RED… ARE YOU _CRYING_?!” Blue’s anxious voice interrupted, jogging over to join them in the snow. Big, cerulean orbs locked on his face worriedly, “DO YOU NEED ME TO—”

“i’ve got _him_ , Sans. you get the other one,” The taller instructed, using a long leg to scooch the dog away from them dismissively. Trying his best to balance Red on his shoulder.

“RIGHT!” His clone nodded, making a grab for the oversized puppy. The rascal dodged. More than ready for a game of chase instead.

Papyrus scooped two hands under Red’s arms once it was safe and lifted him off his shoulder, bringing the small skeleton back down to rest above his hip, still high away from the ground. Placing the shaking skeleton’s legs on either side of his torso. An arm rested under his rump to support him. The other hand stroked his skull, pressing his face into the hoodie.

“you’re okay,” A lazy drawl promised as they walked back towards the house. “i’ve got you.”

Sans quieted a few unnecessary sobs in his throat. Allowing his head to rest against the soft fabric. Calming himself to the rhythm of the hand petting his skull.

That’s right. This wasn’t Boss. This was Papyrus. Or rather, some version of Papyrus that was _much_ gentler than his own.

Red leaned into him.

Perhaps out of concern for him, Papyrus didn’t just take them through a shortcut back to the house. Instead, he carried the small skeleton the whole way back through town. Once again, not giving a shit who saw them. He clearly didn’t care about his reputation at all. Red kind of wished he _had_ just ported them back because he didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

At least the long walk gave him ample time to quell the frantic pace of his soul, until he could breathe –and _think_ –easier. At least he could bury his face far enough into the orange hoodie so no one could see his face. Then, he wouldn’t have to see anyone potentially staring either. He wouldn’t have to see anything.

The sound of a door opening signified their arrival at the cabin. Papyrus hurried them in out of the cold, shutting the door behind him. Yet even then, Red didn’t dislodge his face from where he’d buried it in the other’s chest.

Papyrus did that for him.

Separating them as he eased the small skeleton down to sit on the edge of the lumpy couch. He crouched in front of the other, but Red wouldn’t look at him. He kept his head straight down, still leaking shameful tears out of his sockets. The other dusted some lingering snow off his coat in the silence. Then, a large hand gently cupped his chin, lifting his face up.

“wooow,” Papyrus said unimpressed with a dull chuckle. “such a gross face.”

Red frowned. Well excuse him for not being like this world’s Sans. Cute and peppy and a damn fool.

Papyrus shuffled his sleeve down over his hand and started wiping Red’s face with it. He tried to turn his face away, but the large hand held him still by his chin. Even though he was sniffling, the warm fabric scrubbed his cheeks clean of any tears.

Papyrus drew his sleeve back, inspecting his work. Blinking lazily lidded eyes. “there we go,” He hummed, smirking, “all cute again.”

Red frowned even harder at that, swatting the hovering hands trying to play with his cheeks irritably away. He didn’t have to mock him.

Papyrus laughed out loud at that. “much better,” He grinned, dodging, “i _much_ prefer the sass.”

Red frowned at him _again_ because he didn’t know how to deal with him! Fixing the other with a dead glare.

He just grinned back at him, completely unfazed. “wait right here, okay? i’ll get you a glass of water,” The taller said, stealing a pat to the top of the smaller’s skull as he got up.

Red squirmed nervously on the couch as Papyrus disappeared past the kitchen arch. As the sounds of the cupboards and faucet drifted out, Red timidly lifted a hand to his face, squishing the cheek beneath the palm to wipe at the tear stains. He drew his hand back quickly, but it wasn’t nearly as damp as he was expecting it to be. Papyrus must have done a good job cleaning his face.

Red glowered at the apparent dryness on his palm. ‘ _Cute’,_ huh?

_Jackass…_

Papyrus appeared back out of the kitchen shortly, holding a glass. He lowered it carefully into Red’s hands, forcing him to take it. Then, crouched in front of him again.

Red blinked at it.

“go ahead, take a sip,” the other nodded, easing down to the floor. Making himself comfortable in case this would take a while.

Red did as instructed, taking a sip from the glass. Only realizing afterwards how thirsty he suddenly felt. He gulped down more water, watching the skeleton sitting in front of him curiously. The other just smiled lazily up at him patiently.

The door clamored open behind him, his doppelganger bursting into the house. His blue orbs searched frantically around the living room before settling on him.

“RED!” He yelled making a beeline for him through the house. “ARE YOU ALRIGHT? I AM SO SORRY,” He apologized, crowding the couch. “I HAD NO IDEA YOU’D REACT LIKE THAT.”

It wasn’t like he’d _meant_ to react like that either.

But Blue barreled on, explaining, “THAT LITTLE GUY—HE’S JUST A PUPPY. HE DIDN’T MEAN YOU ANY HARM. HE’S STILL _LITTLE.”_

Red _knew_ it was a fucking kid. He wasn’t stupid. That’s why he hadn’t riddled it with holes. But just because it was still little didn’t mean—

—He wasn’t—

—still _scared_ of a puppy.

Red sighed heavily. He cast his eyes shamefully off to the side. Tense once more.

What the fuck was wrong with him? When had he developed such an irrational fear of dogs? No –he was pretty sure he knew _when –_ it was just –it was an unreasonably _stupid_ thing to have. He’d been fine when they had met the pack at Undyne’s for that meeting, hadn’t he?

No… No, actually, he hadn’t been okay then.

He’d only been “fine” _then_ because Boss had sat between him and the canines like an impenetrable wall. He doubted he would’ve kept his cool if he had been sitting at the table next to them. Not to mention, he had tried to scuttle away _immediately_ when Dogaressa had approached him. He’d tried to _run_ from her. That itself had been pure impulse; but Boss had held his collar stiff –which was the _only_ reason he hadn’t booked it back out of the door of Undyne’s house that time. And then, when he’d been under the table and saw Lesser down there with him; he had, most definitely, _panicked._

That had all been purely irrational.

Hell. He’d had a full blown panic attack below the table, hidden from view. He’d nearly hyperventilated. If Boss hadn’t chased Lesser off… If Boss hadn’t…

He rubbed the neck beneath his collar like he could still feel the ghosting sensation of Boss’ fingers scrapping into the divots between his spine, curled around his little brother, pressing his face into his lap. He’d found it so uncomfortable then –the fear, the unwanted intimacy, the suffocating leather –but, _now_ , he missed him.

Red downed the rest of the water as if it were alcoholic. As if it might make him forget.

Blue grew anxious at his silence. Guilt clear on his face. Before he could open his mouth again to say something equally upsetting, Papyrus wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders, pulling in for a sideways hug. “i think this was all just _a bit_ overwhelming,” he reassured his little brother. “it was probably too early to go out on the town. let’s stick to the house for now. at least until Red’s more stable and feeling better.”

“OK,” Blue answered reflectively. His normal pep already returning as he added a decisive nod, “GOT IT.”

“that’s the spirit,” Papyrus tugged his brother into a lazy headlock, ruffling the top of his skull.

The other fought himself out of the sudden hold. He pushed himself away from his brother, demanding, “PAPY! I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ON A MISSION AT UNDYNE’S LAB?”

“that’s right,” Papyrus grinned at him. “i _was_ –and I did _._ i finally got to speak with Undyne, too. although, i thought Alphys was gonna break my arm for bothering her,” He complained, rolling out his shoulder in a dramatic fashion.

“WHAT DID SHE SAY?” Blue asked eagerly, uninterested in Papyrus’ aches.

“well, she said she’s willing to see Red,” He turned his tangerine irises back to the scarred skeleton in question, adding softer, “ _if_ you’re feeling up for it, that is.”

Normally, Red wouldn’t want any strangers messing around in his business. Especially not such a dangerously personal issue like his health. The thought alone was unsettling. But… he didn’t like the way his magic had guttered out on him earlier.

_That_ was more unsettling than the former thought.

He finished off the last drops in the glass, staring into the empty depths before deciding to speak. His timid voice asked skeptically, “’Ya r-really think she can h-h–help?”

“i know she can,” Papyrus took the empty glass from him, setting it behind him on the floor. “she’s a personal friend. you’d be in good hands. plus, she’s smart. a bit jumpy, but _smart_ ,” He assured in that calming tone of his voice. “she’s our best bet for figuring out what’s wrong with you.”

Red kept his eyes down while listening. He sighed again. He probably didn’t have a choice. If this Underground was anything like his own Underground, “best bet” might also mean “only bet”. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to risk spreading news about his ‘sickness’ –as they kept calling it—but if Papyrus trusted her it might be safe? He wouldn’t let anything happen to him, right?

 Red nodded slowly. Finally, verbally agreeing, “O–o-ok.”

Papyrus grinned at him, “great! let’s go.”

“RIGHT NOW?”

“right now,” Papyrus said standing. “the sooner the better.” He stretched out his back, then shrugged, confessing, “plus she was expecting us a while ago. i just couldn’t find you guys.” He offered a hand out to the little skeleton seated down. “coming?”

Red looked up at the taller through hesitant sockets. Then, timidly put his hand in the larger palm.

Papyrus helped him to his feet, taking Blue’s hand in his other. “hold on,” he instructed to the two, more as fair warning than those instructions being something he actually had to remind anyone aloud. He took a step back, dropping himself into a shortcut, pulling them both along with him. The darkness of the void whizzed past them. Red couldn’t help himself but flinch in the sudden blackness, squeezing the palm in his tightly. But by the time he opened his eyes, there was light again.

The three of them were standing in a large, white-tiled room with tall beige walls that disappeared into metal rafters. Monitors and wires hung down from the ceiling making use of the extra space. Two escalators went into an upper loft, but nestled on the first floor between them sat an enormous tv, a sofa in the middle of the floor, a horrendously messy desk, with a refrigerator right next to it. That living area seamlessly integrated into the working space. Clearly the space of someone who didn’t know how to stop working.

Sure enough, standing in front of them at the desk was a tall woman in a white lab coat. Red hair tied back messily into a bun. Squared glasses hung over fin-ears.

“Th–there you are!” The very un-captain like Undyne greeted with an uncharacteristically startled jump.

“i’m back,” Papyrus grinned, lifting the two skeleton’s hands up in each of his own, waving with both their hands instead of his own, “ _with_ two others.”

“HI UNDYNE!” Blue’s booming voice greeted.

Red ripped his hand out of Papyrus’, refusing to be used as a toy. They didn’t need to hold hands longer than necessary.

“W-why hello there, Sans, and, uhm, you must be…” Her eyes ran the length of the other, equally small skeleton on the opposite side of Papyrus twice. Only stopping to linger on his neck, “O–o-other Sans?”

Red flinched almost violently at the name, hands flying up to cover his nametag. “It’s R-Red,” He corrected quickly, mumbling into the back of his collar, “ _just_ Red.”

“Oh. A-a–alright then, _Red_ ,” She amended almost skeptically with a strained smile, “It’s g-g-good to see you b-back together. I thought for sure you were—” She cut off suddenly, forced grin faltering, as she realized that the elaboration was entirely unnecessary, quickly correcting, “I m-mean, I’m glad you’re feeling b–better.”

Red didn’t answer, sinking into his collar behind his hands. Crimson eyes cast off to the side. Why did he agree to come again? This was _the Lab,_ wasn’t it? The Lab always made him feel uneasy. Plus, technically, this was where he’d lost Boss, wasn’t it?

His hands dug deeper into the leather.

The doctor circled around him, her white lab coat swishing past his vision, snapping him from his wandering thoughts. “S-standing…” She noted.

Red’s eyes trailed after her as she circled behind.

“Conscious…” She continued, leaning in uncomfortably close to look him over past her squared spectacles. Red leaned away from her urgently which pressed him into Papyrus leg. As if that wasn’t a clear enough signal that her proximity was unwelcome, she reached a hand out towards him.

Red slapped it out of the air.

“Responsive…” She added, rubbing her thumb across her fingers as if simply dusting off the slap. Yet instead of reaching for him again, she folded her hands safely below her chest. Leaning in, she squinted at the specimen. Studying the small skeleton inquisitively, “He appears s-solid…”

“ _Back up_ ,” Red bit out bitterly. Why did she keep getting closer? He was practically clinging onto Papyrus’ leg now, trying to use it as a shield between him and the ever-approaching scientist.

“A-and talking…

“I-I–I don’t understand,” Undyne concluded, thankfully standing back to her own height. She finally turned her gaze back to Papyrus as well, “If he’s alright now, w-why do you need me?”

Papyrus leaned down closer to his height, pushing gently at Red’s back to get him to stop hiding, “why don’t you show her the, uh…” He tapped his free hand over his chest.

Red’s wild eyes flew from Papyrus’ hand to his face, already bewildered he was trying to shove him back towards the scientist he’d just tried to escape, but, now, he also wanted him to offer up his most vulnerable part, too. “’Ya want me ‘t-ta show her _that_?” He whispered incredulously.

“it _is_ why we came,” Papyrus answered calmly.

_Damn it._ Red grit his fangs. Damn it; he was right. This is what he’d agreed to when he said he’d come. He knew that. Plus, Papyrus _wanted_ him to. Papyrus said they might get answers.

“A-alright. alright. Stop _pushin_ ’,” He grumbled to the taller, edging him closer. But what was he supposed to do? Was he just supposed to strip in front of her? His crimson eyes trailed hesitantly between Papyrus’ and Blue’s faces, then reluctantly to his feet. He didn’t really want to put his scars on display for everyone.

Shyly, he pulled up the hem of his coat and shirt, reaching a hand under his ribcage to retrieve the soul. He grabbed the requested piece, removing it from the safety of his chest. He smoothed his shirt back down quickly, holding up the shambled light in his other hand.

It still looked horrendous. Chopped brutally in two, the jagged edge prominent and misshapen. Still discolored to a deadened grey. The only difference between now and the first night he’d seen it was that there appeared to be a crimson light within it now, but still dim enough that it shone past the cracked spaces better than the actual solid sections of the soul.

It looked so _wrong._

“Is t-that?”

“his soul,” Papyrus answered.

“How in the blazes are you still standing?!” Undyne shrieked, reeling back like she was horrified. “I m-m-mean _why_ are you still– C-c–come here. Why don’t you sit down?” She offered, quickly flipping around the nearest and only desk chair. She motioned for him to take a seat.

Red frowned at it.

“go ahead,” Papyrus ushered with another soft push, “she’s not going to hurt you.”

A statement never once used to describe the Captain. Yet for his own sanity’s sake, Red silently amended the words, ‘ _while I’m here,’_ onto the end of that brazen statement because then it actually made sense. Save for their last encounter, Captain Undyne didn’t usually lay a hand on him while Papyrus was nearby.

An Undyne that was also head of the notorious laboratory was anything but a comforting thought, but Papyrus _had_ said that they were friends –even in this universe. Hopefully, a similar dynamic was at play.

Swallowing his nerves, he took a seat in the chair as requested. Hovering the soul close to his chest for protection.

“S-s-so, _Red,_ ” Undyne started, grabbing a clipboard from the stacks of messy papers on her desk. “How h-have you been feeling lately? P-physically, I mean.”

_Weak._ Like a strong enough breeze could knock him over, but he didn’t want to say _that_ out loud.

“Any trouble moving? Anything not working like it should?”

“I’m f-f–fine,” Red muttered out, avoiding eye contact.

“he only started moving around yesterday afternoon. before then, we couldn’t get him to respond,” Papyrus cut in.

“HE WAS AS STIFF AS A DOLL!” Blue tattled.

Red glared at the two for ratting him out.

“G-got it,” Undyne nodded, scribbling the notes down. “Now Red, when did _this_ ,” She motioned to the horrid state of the soul, “first happen?”

“Right after B–s-Sans found me,” Red answered. He supposed the first time he’d realized something was wrong with his soul was much further back, but he didn’t really want to bring any attention to that.

“So, you think it broke that night?”

“Y–yeah,” He lied –sort of. At least, that was the first night he’d ever seen it shattered in two.

“Hm,” The doctor hummed, writing away. “And did it hurt?”

“L-like hell,” He muttered under his breath.

“LANGUAGE, RED!”

“Like _hell_ ,” He asserted again, refusing to correct himself. Blue pouted at him. But Red silently basked in his annoyance as a small piece of revenge for ratting him out.

“And now?” Undyne pressed.

The question took him off-guard. He blinked confused. “I g-guess not?” He looked down at the damaged soul. “Looks worse th-than it feels, I guess?”

“Okay,” Undyne nodded, jotting that down. She set the clip board aside, picking up a metal tablet instead. “E-excuse me for a moment,” She said crouching down next to his chair, “I j—just need to get c-close for a second.” She held the thin, metal cube up towards his soul, leaning in, but not touching.

Red couldn’t help but bristle as she got closer.

She peered at his soul over the top of the tablet. “I-I’m assuming red is your soul’s normal color? That’s n-not unusual, is it?”

“Yeah, it’s s-supposed ‘ta be red,” He muttered back, keeping a wary eye on the box.

“Well t-that’s good,” She said, standing back up. She clicked at the tablet in silence for a few moments, eyes scanning the screen. “I notice your HP is unusually low. Is t-this… Is this recent? F-from the time the soul, uhm, you know, _broke_?”

He threw a nervous glance at Papyrus, who motioned for him to answer.

“No...” Red admitted awkwardly. It felt weird to confess that out loud. “I only got one. It’s been like that ‘fer as long as I can remember.”

“WAIT! YOU ONLY HAVE ONE HP, TOO?” Blue asked.

Red nodded timidly.

“Well t-that’s certainly…,” She looked down, contemplating, “not good.” She mumbled a brief blurb under her breath as she set the tablet off to the side, “I wonder if that’s a common condition that runs within the Skeleton genetics?” Then, cleared her throat louder, “S-so then, like Papyrus, you normally avoid taking any damage?”

He nodded again.

“But Sans s-said you had a nasty fall from really high up. You didn’t break anything?”

“I dunno,” Red shrugged.

“How do you not—?”

“HE, UH,” Blue interjected, “STARTED MELTING SHORTLY AFTER THAT. REMEMBER?”

“ _Oh._ right.” Undyne stated hollowly. She bit her lip, “ _that’s worse._ ”

“What?”

“Oh –no! I mean, R-red, have you, uh, _taken_ any substances you shouldn’t have recently?”

“Do I _look_ l–like I got the cash ‘fer drugs?” He certainly wasn’t any thief’s target.

“Oh n-n–no! T-this would be much more obvious than that. I meant,” She bit her lip again, “Have you _literally_ t-taken any chemicals out of my Lab? O-o–or maybe _somehow_ come in contact with any suspicious s-substances you weren’t familiar with?”

So, she thought _he_ was the thief. Well, it was a more likely guess than him being rich, he supposed, but—“No,” He said a bit indignantly. “Why the hell would I t-take somethin’ from ‘yer Lab and then _go back there_ ‘fer help immediately a–afterwards?”

“P-point taken,” She said fidgeting uncomfortably, clarifying, “S-so, you _haven’t_ ingested anything unusual lately?”

Not other than these two’s cooking. “ _No_.”

“Hrmm,” Undyne frowned, glaring down at her clipboard, “W-well, for your sake, I h-hope that’s true. Those chemicals are extremely _dangerous,_ ” She stressed as a warning. _“_ Just a few drops could be lethal.”

“I _haven’t_ ,” Red insisted irritably.

“got a theory, Undyne?” Papyrus prodded casually.

The doctor stopped hounding him for a second, a clearly strained, yet introspective expression falling over her face. She put the clipboard down facedown, sighing heavily, “Well, _no._ These notes don’t make any sense. I’ll h-have to run some tests to gather m–m-more information,” She walked to the other side of the desk closer to the other two, digging through the upper cabinets, near the fridge, on the wall. She lowered out a sealed plastic container, clicking it open, “I can’t know what’s wrong without looking at it in more detail.”

“what do you need to do?” Papyrus asked carefully, a hint of concern in his tone.

“Oh, don’t worry. This won’t t-take long. It’s a very simple procedure,” She said, turning around. In one hand, she held a long, clear, syringe. “S-sorry, Red, I’m g-g–going to need to see that f-for a minute.”

“ _What?”_ Red deadpanned, immediately turning the fragile light away from the doctor. Sockets huge, his eyelights flew up and down the length of the syringe twice.

“I w-won’t do anything harmful. I just n-need to take a sample to study.”

“A _sample,_ ” Red bit out sarcastically.

“Yes a—”

“A _sample._ Meaning ‘ya want ‘ta _take_ a piece of my _soul_?” Red spelt out incredulously.

“N-n–no, no! Just a sample of the magic inside.”

Red still looked horrified.

“I—I-It r-replenishes over time,” She tried to explain hastily, twirling her fingers in a cycle. “An i–infinite cycle of—y–you’ll get it back a-as long as you eat and sleep properly. It’ll take n-no time at all. Y-y-you won’t even know it’s gone! Your b-body will make more to replace the bit that’s lost.”

Well, that _was_ how magic worked, but there was no fucking way he trusted _Undyne_ to wave something sharp around his _extremely_ fragile soul that looked like it would shatter if you breathed on it. He wouldn’t even trust her to do that to a healthy monster that had _more_ than one hit point!

She was a disaster waiting to happen! The Undyne he knew didn’t come with an on off switch for her strength. She was always ran at one hundred and ten percent! There wasn’t a delicate bone in that woman’s body. He didn’t want a needle rammed into him at one hundred and ten percent.

“Red,” Papyrus said cautiously, “if you let her do this, she’ll be able to figure out what’s wrong with it. then, we can start fixing it.”

“If I let her do this, I’m gonna be _dust,”_ Red hissed back. “She’ll break it!”

“Oh, no. I would never—I p-plan to be _very_ careful,” She assured unconvincingly.

“YOU WANT TO GET BETTER, DON’T YOU?” Blue added.

Butt out. He couldn’t help but throw a particularly vile look their way, clutching the broken soul even closer to his chest, curling into the chair. This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have come.

“Red,” Papyrus begged, trying to calm the antsy skeleton, “just let her take the sample.”

_An order._

Did that count as an order? It sounded more like a plea to his ears. Did Papyrus make _requests_? Well… maybe this Papyrus did. But, plea _or_ order, whatever it was, with that sort of worried look in his eye—he was looking at him with so much concern—there was no way he could fucking refuse him.

Not if it was what Papyrus wanted.

“F—f- _fine_ ,” Red bit out reluctantly, eyes cast to the side to avoid those tangerine eyes.

“Oh, I know! Here,” The doctor hurried to shuffle all the books and papers over atop the other piles, until the table could actually be seen beneath the mess. “Just p-place it over here,” She instructed, motioning to the cleared desk space. “I’ll try and touch it as little a–as p-possible. Alright?”

Red reluctantly slid out of the chair, making his way to the end of the desk where Undyne stood. Hesitantly, he pulled the soul away from the protection of his chest, setting it down atop the center of the open desk. The feeble light hovered above the handwood surface, casting a faint glow across the table.

Red stepped away, fidgeting uneasily as the doctor stepped between him and the only thing keeping him alive. It was more than a little unnerving to have his soul exposed just out of reach with the dust-hungry Captain hovering over it with a needle.

The scientist leaned in close, inspecting the rough texture of the soul’s surface. The cracks were numerous, littering the whole body. Their lacing imprint could still be seen even at a distance, so he didn’t know _why_ she needed to get so close. She corrected her glasses, blinking inquisitively at the soul. She gently tapped a finger against the solid surface, holding the syringe off to the side.

Sans went rigid, vividly feeling each pressure of her finger press against him.

“Uhm –ah –errr,” She hesitated shyly, turning to him, “C-c-c-could you –I mean, w-why don’t you try and think of something relaxing?”

“ _Relaxin’_?” Red asked doubtfully. There was nothing _relaxing_ about this situation whatsoever.

“Yes,” Undyne confirmed, nervously glancing over to the damaged light. “Considering h-how fragile it is, I don’t feel comfortable just forcing the needle in.”

“ _You_ don’t feel comfortable?” Red mocked.

“I’m trying _not_ to injure you here,” Undyne defended, resting a supposedly calming hand on his shoulder. “The last thing we want to d-d-do is shatter it! I’m trying to help. The soul’s consistency is too rigid,” She explained. “Think of something happy like puppies or–”

—Oh _yeah_. Puppies were a _super_ relaxing thought–

“O-or watching staying up all night to watch your favorite anime—“

Pardon?

“–O-or f-finding the latest iSsUe oF Mew Mew Kissie Cutie AT THE DUMP for your oNE tRUe LOVE!!!” Her hand dug excitedly into his shoulder.

Red furrowed his brow, staring at her in utter confusion. He didn’t even fucking understand that last one.

Everyone looked at him expectantly, but nothing came to mind. He didn’t have anything like that. Yet _everyone_ was looking at him as if he should be able to conjure something like that to mind on demand. On the spot. Searching for something, his eyes glanced nervously around the entire room eventually landing on Papyrus.

The tall skeleton smiled back supportively upon seeing him start to panic.

“alright. come here,” Pap approached, catching Red by the arm as he passed by.

“o–OI!” He protested.

Yet Pap dragged him away from his soul. The lanky form sat down on the sofa nearby. Then he picked Red up, dropping the bewildered skeleton onto his lap like he had at the post. The larger form leaned into him from the back, wrapping the long, plushy sleeves of his hoodie around him. Right in front of _everyone_.

For a brief second it was warm.

Red immediately yanked the arms away from him, spinning around to glare at the other as he shoved him away roughly, back to the couch. That was it. He couldn’t take this in silence anymore. “What’re ‘ya doin’?!” He roared, grabbing the front of his ridiculous hoodie in a near-threatening manner. It never made any fucking sense!

“a hug,” Pap drawled lazily, shrugging.

“W—” Red tightened his grip on the front of his shirt with a second fist, demanding, “Why?!” _Why_ did he keep doing shit like this?!

“you looked at me, didn’t you?”

Fuckin’ inconceivable. “ _I wasn’t askin’ ‘ya!_ ”

Instead of fighting back, Pap just flopped dramatically over the back of the sofa. Lolling his head away from the confrontation, clearly not putting up any kind of fight to Red’s challenge. “you weren’t?” He sighed exaggeratedly. “it certainly looked that way to me.”

Stubborn oaf! Nothing he said was going to get through that thick skull of his. Red didn’t know how to deal with him. Did—Did this _look_ like the time for hugs? Damn it. He wanted to shake him.

His hands furled into the cloth of the hoodie, twisting.

Instead, a blush had caught up to him. Quickly denying, “I wasn’t! I–I didn’t! ‘Ya idio–” He felt a cold jab lurch into him then that stopped him dead in his tracks. His eyes shrunk to pinpricks. He looked over his shoulder, back to his soul with wide sockets where the scientist had entered the syringe into the somewhat gel-like consistency of the soul.

“GOOD IDEA!” Sans chirped, clapping his hands together. “HUGS SOLVE EVERYTHING!”

He’d been duped!

He didn’t get a chance to throttle Papyrus for the deception because as the scientist extracted a portion of his magic from the soul. He, too, felt that drain vividly. Like his strength was going straight out of him. He unwillingly slipped back down into a sitting position, straddling the other’s legs. Fuck it all. He hadn’t even gotten off of Papyrus’ lap when he’d had the chance.

Yet that ~~idiot,~~ cunning _fiend,_ was all too ready to catch him. Securing his back so he wouldn’t fall off the couch, he ushered Red forward as he sunk down –straight into Papyrus’ waiting arms. He fell against his shoulder, cheek sinking against the bone. Those long arms, not pulling him in, but gently sheltering him to prevent him from falling back onto the floor like he’d _prefer_.

He would _much_ rather crack his head open on the floor at this point than sit on Papyrus’ lap like this. But there was nothing he could do, now at the mercy of everyone in this room.

Papyrus smirked down at him almost apologetically, but mostly amused, gently stroking once down the back of his skull with a large hand as if reassuring him that he’d be safe.

“ _Oh my stars_!” The scientist gasped from across the room.

“is everything ok?” Papyrus asked, pulling his attention away from the skeleton draped across his arms.

“Uh, P-Papyrus? You might want to let go of him.”

“why?”

“He’s, w-w-well, it would–” She swallowed nervously, “I–i-it would appear that h-he’s level _seven._ ” There was an ominous pause as if that were unusual. Or some dire news. It wasn’t that much higher than the average.

Papyrus _laughed._

“ _Papyrus_ ,” Undyne said in a begging tone full of caution, “Please just _listen_ –h-he’s clearly dangerous.”

“him? _nahhh_. don’t get worked up over the little details. just look at him,” Papyrus grinned slyly down at small skeleton laid helplessly against him, taking advantage of his weakened state to pinch Red’s cheek, wiggling the chub between his fingers. “he’s absolutely harmless!”

Damn him.

Mark his words; Red was going to kill him when he got his strength back. But for now he couldn’t do shit. He felt so weak, lifelessly hanging over the fool as he played with his cheeks. Slowly, sinking down into his lap. Until the voices arguing dulled into a distant murmur and the room blurred into a faded darkness. But those arms were still there, wrapped around him.

Why was he so sleepy? He didn’t want to take a nap in Pap’s lap.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   
>  Fun Fact of the Chapter:   
> Like a defense mechanism, a soul’s consistency is related to feelings of safety.  
> Hard when it needs protection. Soft when it doesn’t.  
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
> 
>  
> 
> Random Other Notes:  
> So, like, when I was making this story a year or two ago, I could NOT for the life of me figure out who the Guard Dogs were switched with. (When I searched Underswap, I just got pictures of the skelebros. LOL!) Anyway, I apologize if my take on Underswap may differ from anything that's become headcannon in the fandom since then, but these swaps have been in the story (And my mind) since the start! So; Sorry if it's weird?!?!
> 
> When I was trying to figure it out. I had this idea to switch the Dog Pack with the Bunny Clan. I imagined a bunch of badass bunny-girls in armor an it was just EXACTLY the kind of quirky and fun thing thing I could imagine Underswap having! So, I had to go with it! I hope you'll enjoy it, too! :3
> 
> Aaaaaand if I end up having to name all the bunnies, they'll probably all be named after puns. First one's Bonibun (Bonni *coughBunnycough* for short) So, I guess, if there's any headcannons for names then you still have a chance to rescue them from my punny wrath if you feel like it! xD Otherwise, that whole name situation might get a bit... harey. OHOHOHO!


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